Excuse Me Sir, Would You Like to Buy a Kilo of Isopropyl Bromide?
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EXCUSE ME SIR, WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY A KILO OF ISOPROPYL BROMIDE? Max G. Gergel March 1977 © 1979, Pierce Chemical Company, AIi Rights Reserved Publisher's Foreword There is a Max Gergel; I have seen him a few times a year for several decades. He is probably a great liar, though I never caught him outright. He is yj ven to fanciful stories, such as claiming to be friendly with three ex-wives. Like any other who has met Max, I was charmed out of my socks, im pressed (very gradually) by his mind and elegant uses of it, rendered jealous of his amorous successes, and even awed by the grace with which he met unrequited love. Max has a huge taste for life, any way it comes, and lives in great good laste—as chemist, philosopher, lover, raconteur, businessman—but, let the iiiconteur introduce you to those other nice folks. Roy Oliver President, Pierce Chemical Company Dedicated to seven teachers who shared with me their wisdom: Arvid Czarnitski, Atherton M. Whaley, Guy Fleming Lipscomb, J. E. Copenhaver, E. Emmet Reid, Max Revelise and C. J. Seideman. Prologue When I was a traveling salesman for Columbia Organic Chemicals a group of my friends would gather at American Chemical Society meetings. There was Sam Tubis, Micky Freed and Peter Russell from Wyeth Labora tories, Charlie Grogan and Tony Schrecker from the National Institute of I lealth, Ken Greenlee from Ohio State and Tom Osdene, about to become Director of Research at Philip Morris. Most people attended the lectures given by distinguished scientists. Our group sat in the lobby or gathered in one of the hotel rooms. Tubis and Grogan smoked cigars and there was always a haze of smoke. We exchanged gossip, discussed our experiences making ilicmicals and lied about our amorous adventures. Ken was leaving the American Petroleum Institute to start ChemSampCo. I was fighting the usual battle for survival; all were customers of Columbia Oiganics. They brought their friends to our get-togethers and the friends bought from then on. ACS meetings were my meat and bread. At one of them, probably in Boston, Ray Dessy who had left the Univer sity of Cincinnati to teach at V.P.I, asked me to visit his university and mklicss his graduates. He suggested that I title my talk "How to run a small chemical company profitably." I amended this to "How to run a small chemical company unsuccessfully" and the talk was so successful that I iepeated it many times at other universities. Students clad in bluejeans, bcurded and skeptical, filled the amphitheatres and I told them about Preacher, my former employee, about our fifty cats, and our work on the Manhattan I'loject. I threw in "pitches" for Columbia Organics and recruited Summer help. After about twenty of these talks the ACS picked up the tab and sent me nil over the country, to the Prairie Section, the North Central Section, the Marquette and Middle West circuits. I visited Omaha and Duluth and Fargo, Norlh Dakota. Industrial concerns, Phillips Petroleum Corp., Pfizer and I Ipjohn wanted to hear how we had spent thirty years losing money. I knew lluil all of us cherish memories of making chemicals and many of us are latent entrepreneurs, with a secret desire to be our own boss. Inevitably I was asked "Are you writing a book?", and I would say that I was. "What is the title?" WHS the inevitable next question and I would say: "Excuse Me, Sir, Would You Like To Buy A Kilo Of Isopropyl Bromide?" "It's a bit long", was lhc inevitable comment, und this is true, but it's the story of my life. Chapter 1 In 1936, forty-one years ago, I was the smallest member of my class at Columbia High School, probably the smallest member of the student body, certainly the loudest. Having decided to be a lawyer I was a very vocal member of the Calhoun Literary Society. The leading debaters were Lee Baker and Sidney Duncan. The debating team traveled around the state, meet ing in competition other high school teams. I was first alternate but since the members of the team were healthy my talents were exercised mainly in our club where I argued that the several states should not enact a unicameral system of legislation and opposed the establishment of a system of socialized medicine. My genius uncle, Max Revelise, helped me write my speeches which I delivered falsetto. I had not reached puberty; a cause for much concern to me and my parents. My class members considered me a mascot and re joiced when I was ordered to join John Foard in a debate with Memminger High School. Lee Baker had developed croup. I sent him a dozen roses. The opposing team was female; both of the girls were budding women's libbers. One, safe in her position as final speaker, in rebuttal, told a laughing audience I hat sarcasm was a tool employed by large women and small men. She was small—but deadly. The judges voted for Memminger. The sarcastic small one slunk home, dissolved in mortification and alternating in thought between changing his future profession and taking his life. Columbia High School had a large cafeteria in which the students and I he faculty ate together. Shortly after the disaster one of the teachers sat next Io me and asked what I planned to do when I "grew up." I told him that I was resigned to being a dwarf and would join a carnival and be exhibited as a freak. He smiled and told me that he was the Chemistry teacher, his name was Arvid Czarnitski and he would like to have me visit his laboratory that afternoon. He had sandy hair, blue eyes and the build of an athlete; he was, in fact the assistant football coach, His brother, Bill Czarnitski was the Boy Scout Commissioner in Columbia. I had hiked for miles hoping the exercise would make me grow. I had already accumulated some experience in Chemistry. Two years earlier and gnome-sized, I was a student at Wardlaw Junior High School and I spent late afternoons visiting the Chemistry department at the University of South Carolina. There was a large garbage area back of the Pharmacy and Chemistry labs and I recovered broken flasks, cracked mortars and pestles and test tubes containing all manner of gunk. The harvest was gathered and transported four miles to our home on Calhoun Street where I carefully washed the containers and added them to my own stock room, our spare room which I had converted to a laboratory. Wearing my apron, every inch (few, alas) a scientist I carried out my research in the production of phosphorus from human urine (my own), the generation of hydrogen sulfide gas (to the annoyance of our neighbors) and the mixing of explosives (my most successful endeavor). For two years I had been a dedicated research scientist but considered it a hobby, like stamp collecting and the gathering of Indian arrowheads. Until this meeting with Mr. Czarnitski I had never considered making Chemistry my life's work. I presented myself at room 312, the Chemistry laboratory, that very afternoon. Mr Czarnitski was busy with students so I began washing down the desks and cleaning the stockroom. Later in the afternoon a young man came in, put away the books he was carrying and walked over. He asked me who I was and what I was doing. His name was Atherton Mikell Whaley and he was a sophomore at the University working as an assistant to Mr. Czarnitski. For this he got a salary which he offered to share with me if I would take over his duties since he needed to devote time to research. I was hired at $5 per month. Mr. Crow, the principal, had the only telephone in the school. I rushed to his office, called my mother and told her that I had taken a job. When I got back to the lab Atherton and Mr. Czarnitski explained my new duties; to set up the equipment for the lectures. I was taken to Mr. Crow's office and enrolled in the Chemistry class which had started two weeks early. Mr. Czarnitski gave me the textbook to study at home and Atherton promised to take me to the University and show me what he was doing in their research program. So much had happened so fast that I forgot to call home and half way there, a long walk for short legs, I met a search party consisting of my stepfather, Jules Seideman, my uncle Tom Revelise and our neighbor Mr. Richbourg. During the next few weeks I studied the elements, the gas laws, halogens and balancing equations. I was not one of the brighter students but was louder and carried more books. I purchased a slide rule which fastened to my belt. I did not know how to use it but impressed my peer group. I was 4' WW tall, fifteen years old, a wearer of horn-rimmed glasses and already the possessor of a noticeable tummy. In reflection, little has changed during the years. We formed a chemical club: I was the president and the members included Warren Irwin who is now one of Columbia's foremost heart specialists, Olin Crouch (who became a detective), and my close friends Albert Ragsdale and Pete Todd. We dissolved old radio tubes in acid, ignited thermit (a mixture of iron oxide and aluminum with a magnesium ribbon fuse—guaranteed to fuse rails or ignite laboratory benches) and generated noxious gases.