My Scientific Career in Entomology — The Dark Side

By Margaret Rae MacKay

My autobiography, published in 2002, contains references to incidents in which colleagues tried to assume credit for my research, tried to use me in an inferior capacity, attempted to interrupt my work, and acted in similar ways. Because these manoeuvres seemed to meet with little success, I was inclined to treat most of them lightly, even ignoring some entirely. However, information given to me shortly after my autobiography appeared has made me view these incidents differently.

A former colleague, Dr. Ed Becker, apologized to me after he had read the biography. He said he knew what was being perpetrated against me but did not report it. I was stunned, and failed to question him. Today, he says only that what I believe about several colleagues is probable, but he will neither confirm nor deny these beliefs.

I am now convinced that I do no one a favour by making light of these incidents. Only by taking them seriously and naming the perpetrators can these practices be at least slowed. I have no reason to believe such acts do not continue today, though no doubt in a more subtle fashion. I am astounded at the lengths some people will go to, to try to take credit for research not their own, or to discredit colleagues whom they evidently fear for one reason or another.

I had the courage and confidence to leave my family and home on the Saskatchewan prairies, travel to another continent, walk into the British Museum of Natural History in London and obtain immediate and steady employment in the field of insects, my specialty. I later returned to Canada across an ocean by then involved in a world war, and again obtained a similar position thousands of miles from home. But only after joining the Canadian civil service was I introduced to the real world of cat-and-mouse jealousy, revenge, ambition, pettiness, and more.

Thanks to my genes, I had the good sense to resign from the public service permanently at age 57 and enjoy the unrestricted life of a visual artist for the following several winters in Mexico, as well as more travels, painting, and the many happy years in my comfortable home. Life is too short to live it in an atmosphere of unease and distrust, even to leave a worthwhile legacy for the benefit of those who replace us (and I do not refer to personal wealth or fame as that legacy).

* * * * *

Here I digress somewhat, as the following paragraphs may not appear to relate to the dark side of my career. I hope that they serve to indicate my status as an entomologist, the opinions of my work expressed by leading international specialists in my field at the time, and the doubtful accuracy of my personal evaluation by a colleague. Indirectly, then, they may help to explain the hostile reaction that I encountered, especially in the latter part of my career.

My research published in those years seems to be still in demand. I have learned that my four monographs and my recently published autobiography are listed on various websites of the Internet.

I do wish to thank Dr. Bruce Gill for information that I have waited years to hear. Dr.
Gill is involved in the identification of insects brought into this country in personal luggage, containers, and other conveyances, usually inadvertently, and confiscated by the Customs people. Confiscation is to prevent possible destruction of our forests and other valuable growth, should the insects escape into the wilderness. Dr. Gill uses the results of my research to aid in the identification of lepidopterous (moth) larvae that he encounters. That my work has practical value, and in Canada, gives me much satisfaction.

The excerpts copied here from letters by well-known entomologists indicate the reception that my first monograph received when it first appeared in 1959:

“… beautiful piece of work. We certainly need papers like this, and I hope that you will be able to continue to put them out.” — F.H. Rindge, American Museum of Natural History

“… very important and interesting. As I see it clearly your paper is necessary in my work.” — N.S. Obraztsov, New York

“Delightful volume. I do like the explanatory figures in the key, — worth books full of words!” — W.H.T. Tams, British Museum

“My sincere congratulations with the fine piece of work which you accomplished. Actually every Taxonomist should study larvae parallel to adults.” — A. Diakanoff, Leiden, Holland

“… most impressive and obviously one of the best pieces of work done so far on the Lepidoptera.” — H.E. Hinton, University of Bristol, England

“… monumental work — stand for all time as a classic.” — John A. Comstock

“… an excellent piece of work for which you are to be heartily commended.” — Leland R. Brown, University of California

“… a substantial contribution to the classification of lepidopterous larvae and you are to be commended for undertaking and completion of the study in this difficult group.” — Hahn N. Capps, U.S. National Museum

Additional requests also indicated the intention of other research workers to use copies as aids to their studies in other families of Lepidoptera, and as an essential literature source for a university course on immature forms.

* * * * *

I return at this point to the one time that I can remember reading my own annual evaluation. This had been rated by a senior entomologist, occupant of the adjacent office, Dr. E.G. Munroe. When asked why he had given me a lowly C for stability, he replied, “Well, you aren’t married, are you?” I am still not married, and still do not know the connection!

I therefore re-examine that evaluation, and examine as well, and for the first time, the man who rated me.

No doubt a C for maturity was given for the same reason as for stability. Under Personal Qualities I received a C for confidence, in spite of my previous history mentioned here and known to my colleagues. Another C for punctuality, under Work Habits, must have been judged solely on time of arrival at work in the morning. I began work when I arrived, usually after returning smiles and waves from colleagues — among them Dr. Munroe, standing at the window of the director’s office, enjoying their morning chat and their jokes, and observing late-comers. Need more be said! I am under the impression that the overall B rating given me (the remaining items being mostly As and Bs) should probably have been somewhat higher. So much for personal evaluation by a colleague!

Dr. Bryan P. Beirne, the head of the Pestology Center at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, B.C., for so many years, and an astute individual, once described Dr. Munroe to me as jealous, small-minded, and with a third equally disparaging trait that I can no longer recall. I noted once that Dr. Munroe was not above passing on a suggestion of mine as his own, to our director — an example of small-mindedness? His strong attraction to those in power was apparent. It is the little things that make the man, so I’ve heard.

Dr. Munroe was at times egotistical and autocratic. After waiting patiently for my turn to use the typist’s services, I checked her progress on a manuscript of mine only to discover she had been ordered by Munroe to ignore my work in favour of his — with no request, explanation, or apology to me from him.

His arrogant contempt for the services of our competent editor, Hazen Wigmore, and his assumption that he had no need of Wigmore’s advice showed in his work: in the lengthy, involved moth descriptions that were drawn to my attention by the complaint of a visiting scientist, and in at least some of his articles. I remember returning an article to him in disgust after a futile attempt to understand it. Then again, my inability to understand it might have been because of a lack of mental alertness, for which I was given another C under the heading of General Ability.

Dr. Munroe’s “retentive mind” was seldom able to recall exactly the statements I had previously made to him. He was fond of re-stating them, but always in a twisted fashion that was not only exasperating but left me wondering if he repeated his version to other people. I presume, too, that he followed the common practice of splitting papers to obtain credit for more publications than necessary, since he suggested that was what I should do (a practice I did not follow).

Dr. Munroe was the Scientific Editor of the journal The Canadian Entomologist, to whom I presented my second volume for publication. He passed it to a Dr. John McLintock, apparently for editing and not for reviewing, since the man was a field entomologist rather than a taxonomist, and obviously had no interest in learning how to use the identification keys, or possibly lacked the ability to use them. I quote from my autobiography (p. 114):

“He proceeded to pencil in multiple changes, not on just a few pages as customary but throughout the entire manuscript, and referred to the terminology as jargon. Obviously he was clueless with respect to the contents of the monograph. I was so incensed I refused to accept its return until the unnecessary alterations were removed.”

Who eventually did the erasing I do not know, and why the procedure took months has never been explained to me, nor have I ever received an apology.

I can only conclude that the purpose behind this apparent stupidity was to delay publication long enough to miss inclusion in a recommendation for promotion. Did someone fear that this volume would be received as well as the first was? After all, it was written in exactly the same format as the first volume, and required little editing.

Is this incident an example of that jealousy mentioned by Dr. Beirne? I find it difficult to express such thoughts since I don’t believe I was ever a competitive or jealous person, but I am no longer naïve.

Was this the episode to which Dr. Becker referred when he apologized for knowing about it and not reporting it?

* * * * *

H.A. Richmond and W.G. Mathers were the two men with whom I had to deal in British Columbia. The former headed the forest insect laboratories in Victoria and in Vernon, and the latter ran the Vernon laboratory under Richmond. They caused me more grief than any other individuals but they certainly did no harm to my career and received just retribution a year or two after I had left Vernon. The lengthy background to their story is in my autobiography (pp. 90 et seq.); the following are the highlights.

Richmond approached me in Vancouver where I was spending the winter with my mother who was recovering from a stroke. I had resigned from the Ottawa laboratory. In his efforts to hire me for the Vernon laboratory, he even escorted me to an annual meeting of the B.C. Entomological Society.

Once I had rejoined the Forest Insect Survey, it was a different story. The entire staff, including forest insect rangers and technician, all male, but not the two secretaries, female, drove off one morning to attend a B.C. Entomological Society meeting. I was completely ignored, not even given the chance to refuse to accompany them! I took one of the secretaries with me into the countryside for a pleasant afternoon of sketching.

Another time, Mathers remarked that it was too bad that I was a girl; otherwise I could have driven with him to Kamloops and been treated to a plane trip to inspect insect damage in the forest. I was speechless. I never thought to tell him that I had already enjoyed a much better trip — from Ottawa to Sault Ste. Marie with an overnight stay in North Bay, and that I accompanied a well-known entomologist, Dr. Carl Atwood. The drive, with stops to collect sawfly cocoons on the way, and the flight, which included afternoon tea, fresh wild strawberries and canned cream, after we landed on a beautiful northern lake and taxied to a ranger’s cabin, have never been forgotten — they were a highlight of my career.

That I would receive no support, or very little, for my efforts where the Forest Insect Survey was concerned was made abundantly clear to me by several incidents, especially one when I desperately needed a supply of jelly jars or similar containers in which the summer staff would rear the larvae at the Insectary. I informed Mathers of our need when he was wondering what excuse he could give for a trip to Vancouver with the government car. He returned from Vancouver empty handed. He forgot, so he said!

The annual report was the last straw. The contribution to it from the Victoria laboratory was of little use because of inaccuracies. I sent my compilation of the report to Richmond to be forwarded to Ottawa; I received word that this had been done with one small change. His name had not only been added to it but placed ahead of mine as senior author. My resignation was promptly posted to Ottawa with explanation and the Victoria notes, to be withdrawn only if Richmond’s name was removed from that report. My resignation was refused, Richmond’s name was removed, and I returned to Ottawa permanently the following spring and transferred to Taxonomy a year or so later.

* * * * *

As for the scientist with the drinking problem, Dr. T.N. Freeman (p. 116), I am told that one has invariably to contend with at least one such individual in the course of one’s career.

When I was asked to join Taxonomy, this colleague suggested that I work on the immature stages of the family of moths whose adults he had studied for his Ph.D thesis. I saw no reason to refuse.

The first serious incident was an attempt to take credit for some of my work, without my knowledge. The evidence was presented to me one day without explanation by an acquaintance from elsewhere in the building, whose father and mine were in the medical profession and were friends back in Saskatchewan — a minor miracle for which I have forever been grateful.

A phone call one day from elsewhere on the Experimental Farm alerted me to trouble again. The caller enquired about two sisters, summer students who had been on my staff, who were most satisfactory workers, and whom I fully expected to employ again for the summer about to begin. I could not replace them easily. Dr. Freeman knew this, yet had recommended these girls to the caller. This attempt, too, was foiled by that phone call. As recounted in my autobiography (p. 116):

“He must have reached a stage of desperation when he suggested a lengthy paper of mine could not be understood and should be tossed in the wastebasket. He did not know that our director had just complimented me on it!

“My attempts to obtain an office somewhat removed from such a working atmosphere got nowhere — the excuse: I was a good influence on my colleague. These and other minor events were most exasperating at the time.”

Another scientist, Dr. Henry Howden, should be included in this group. He was the one irritant to get under the skin of almost everyone on the insect collecting trip to Texas in 1959. Since I was the last to join the group, I was the last to tangle with him. He had tried to prevent me from being a member of the party in the first place, and when in Texas attempted to treat me not only as a technician but as one who was at his command. He failed, of course, and earned the dislike of our southern hosts in the process. I wonder how Munroe would have rated him for maturity and stability. Some years later I again felt his hostile attitude. I was the Scientific Editor of The Canadian Entomologist at the time and he apparently held the same faulty opinion of his own writing capabilities as did Dr. Munroe.

Dave Gray, the assistant to J.J. de Gryse and author of the letter mentioned in the autobiography (pp. 96 97) should be mentioned. He was my friend for life after I submitted my resignation from the Vernon laboratory. I sensed that he had no love for Richmond or Mathers. However, once I had transferred to Taxonomy and was permitted to read my personal file, I noted a comment signed by Dave Gray to the effect that I did not work well with a group — a remark not likely to further my career. I do not know to this day if the comment is true or false; and he certainly did not. I do know that I had to be wary of being used, that I got along well with most of the staff of the Vernon laboratory and remain friends with several of those men today, and that I apparently fitted in on insect collecting trips. I also know that after I had read that comment, Dave Gray appeared once in my office with a student in tow. He never appeared there again!

Other minor incidents occurred, one again while I was the Scientific Editor of The Canadian Entomologist.  A new head of the Department of Botany was hired, a Dr. R.A. Ludwig. I quote(p. 115):

“If I recall correctly, he must have had a temporary office next to mine on the second floor, and I first noticed that rather than ask me for some bit of information, he went all the way to the basement office of the technical editor to obtain it (I must admit she was a personable young lady).

When installed in Botany, he invited, via our director, the taxonomists in Entomology to view his premises — an open house in other words. Oddly, I was probably the only one in the group not welcomed when I walked in, nor was I acknowledged later.

He never spoke a word to me, at any time. I learned later that the man was a member of the board responsible for my well-being — my promotions, if any. What chance did I have with a type like that on my board?”

Another incident that I found most perplexing was that of the stolen plates of drawings (p. 79). They were “possibly twelve inches by eighteen inches in size, with an average of ten drawings on each showing moth larvae, sawfly larvae, aphids, damage caused by insects, and similar subjects. These plates had been reproduced for publication and then returned to me. They remained on a shelf near my desk until they disappeared one day. Weeks or months later, someone on a ladder found them: my drawings, somewhat stained from leaks in overhead pipes, were on top of one of the file cabinets in an outer room.”

I can only suspect the identity of the culprit, but from other actions of his, I now have no doubt that the man was a kleptomaniac.

* * * * *

I am convinced that this dark side of my career should be exposed even at this late date. I find that discussing it is distasteful, and that it was much more than “harassment of women.” There were attempts to oppress and subjugate. There were attempts to appropriate the products of one’s labour, research and otherwise, to benefit another person. There were attempts to control, to reduce one to servitude.

Were some actions influenced by our respective degrees — those of most of the men being Doctors of Philosophy, mine a Master of Science? Was someone about to be outranked in position, salary, or both by an individual with only an M.Sc., and a female at that? Had someone already been outranked? I suspect that more than one individual suffered from a dreadful “control problem,” the underlying state of which is apparently fear and anxiety. I could speculate forever, but this is the field of a psychiatrist.

These are my memories of a most unexpected and strange but common breed of scientist, one whose ambition, jealousy, pettiness, and so on are unrestrained and where the services of a psychiatrist would appear to be justified at times.

My experience as a scientific editor (a good one, I have heard) and long-time scientist suggests that the best, the excellent, research is not produced by members of this group but by conscientious, comparatively hard-working individuals who do not seek the limelight, and by the occasional brilliant original thinker who comes on to the scene infrequently.

* * * * *

Acknowledgments

My sincere thanks once again to my competent editor and keyboarder, Jocelyn Tomlinson.

Publications

The absence of a list of publications was mentioned by a reviewer of my autobiography. Perhaps such a list would be of interest here. It will not be complete, as I never kept track of the publications myself.  See "Memoirs and Papers"

References

1. MacKay, M.R. 2002. The Life of a Female Drifter: An Entomologist Remembers. Gen. Store Pub. House, Burnstown, Ont.

2. Tom Spears, The Ottawa Citizen. Scientific publishing world rife with ‘jealousy, paranoia’. p. 12. Mar. 20, 2003.