I consider myself lucky for being associated with Henry Townes for many years, as a friend, colleague, and a member of the AEI Board of Directors. However, my highest respect for Henry did not prevent me from being critical or holding opposite views. This earned me from him a subtitle: "the most philosophical of all my critics." I mention this episode to dispel the impression of being a submissive or biased lackey. Nevertheless, the overall tone of the following lines will be strongly eulogical.
To use the phraseology of the 90's, Henry Townes operated the AEI on the principles of a market economy, a 24-hr "on call" professional enterprise. It was effectively a family business, hence Townes & Townes Ltd. Since 1934 Henry and Marjorie worked as a perfect tandem, combining principles of scientific professionalism with those of the market economy championed much later be Margaret Thatcher. The results speak clearly for themselves, in scientific publications, editorial accomplishments, and in curatorial excellence. No time was wasted, seven days a week, 356 days a year. The usual working day in the AEI averaged 15 hours; weekends and holidays blurred with working days. Henry's enterprising mind remained plugged-in even during periods of seeming rest. He was permanently on the lookout, perhaps never missing a ship of opportunity. This combined with a good sense of reasonable gambling resulted in dividends of various kinds. The extraordinary industriousness of Henry was superimposed on his exceptional memory and ingenuity. With his qualifications and talents he would have been a tycoon in any enterprise, scientific or commercial. Luckily for all of us hymenopterists, he focused on our field. Perseverance and determination, bordering often on stubbornness and inflexibility, were major gears of Henry's success. He was a born leader who had to be his only boss, with enterprise operated strictly on his own terms. In typical American entrepreneurship he strongly cherished competition over cooperation and, as a Darwinist, he adored the idea of the survival of the fittest. He had little love or patience with mediocrity or pseudoprofessionalism pampered by official bureaucracy.
Henry built the best world collection of Ichneumonidae. Starting in 1934 with near-zero holdings, he managed over the years to create an unrivaled pyramid. A good part of this treasure came from Henry's own field work. Careful planning as well as strategy combined with flawless logistics always resulted in the collection of the maximum material There were no curio-trips or joyrides and virtually no major failures in his field expeditions. Henry's spartan endurance, experience and good judgement helped to stretch the field dollar to the absolute extreme. His own model of the Malaise trap is an unsurpassed for collecting ichneumonids. Of course, he had to pay top dollar for his traps and so he took the best care of them. I remember a chilling night in the mountains of Venezuela when, after a day's hard work, Henry (pushing nearly 70), returned alone at 10 pm to a long trail in cloud forest to check his trap line; two of us some 24 years younger failed to join him because of fatigue and lack of stamina. Henry supplemented his own collecting with purchases from the world's top professional insect collectors. Here he displayed a very shrewd salesmanship, again stretching the dollar to the maximum. Thanks to his sharp eye and admirable depth of knowledge, he always netted the most valuable part from bulk material in the shortest possible time. As a result his collection attained the highest possible degree of biodiversity. Unlike the majority of entomologists (or scientists in general) Henry was a selfmade financial genius. Monitoring the stock exchange, purchases of stocks and bonds, or watching the international economy and politics were all part of Henry's daily program. This allowed him to generate and increase a considerable personal fortune which together with occasional outside grants made the operations of the AEI truly independent. The bottom line of this effort was the best strategy for "bug-dollar." In other words, Henry kept a close watch on both ichneumonids and bucks flying around. He was his own broker, accountant, salesman, scientist, and BOSS.
Last but not least, I feel it necessary to set one thing quite straight. With all his fervour and extraordinary dedication to professionalism, Henry Townes was not a monk, workaholic, or ivory tower oddball. On the contrary, he was a happy family man, husband, father, and grandfather, colleague and friend to many, a man of good humour and cheering nature. He recognized the value of a proper lifestyle, with time for swimming, hiking, canoeing, skiing, or just a friendly get-together with friends. The house of Henry and Marjorie was full of visitors and friends, full of life and action. Marjorie's good cooking was cherished by all of us frequent visitors. And there was always good classical music in the laboratory and long discussions after dinner on a variety of topics. Perhaps the secret to this success was saving of time more than money, but in both these disciplines Henry was the world champion.
The purpose of this retrospective meditation was to analyze the secret of Henry's success. Perhaps I did not uncover the entire story but I believe that at least some of the points are worth considering and following. I admit that mixing science and money is rather distant to many of us; scientists and bankers seem to live on opposite banks of the river. Henry was a remarkable ferryman who managed to link the two banks in a compromise and coexistence. Perhaps we should all stop and ponder some new ways and approaches for the benefit and prosperity of science.
[Editor: Additional obituaries for Henry Townes are: Buckingham, G.R., V.K. Gupta, & M.C. Townes. 1991. American Entomologist 37:251-253; Porter, C. 1991. Acta Ent. Chilena 16:289-290; Wahl, D.B. 1992. Proc. Ent. Soc. Washington 94:289- 292.]