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His goal—to prevent every disease that commonly attacked children—was unattainable. But Maurice Hilleman came close.
Maurice Hilleman is the father of modern vaccines. Chief among his accomplishments are nine vaccines that practically every child gets, rendering formerly deadly diseases — including mumps, rubella, and measles — nearly forgotten. Author Paul A. Offit's rich and lively narrative details Hilleman's research and experiences as the basis for a larger exploration of the development of vaccines, covering two hundred years of medical history and traveling across the globe in the process. The history of vaccines necessarily brings with it a cautionary message, as they have come under assault from those insisting they do more harm than good. Paul Offit clearly and compellingly rebuts these arguments, and, by demonstrating how much the work of Hilleman and others has gained for humanity, shows us how much we have to lose.
274 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2007
He walked down the hallway, knocked on the housekeeper’s door, and told her that he would be gone for a while. Then he went back to his bedroom, picked up his daughter, and put her back to bed. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said. “Where are you going, Daddy?” asked Jeryl. “To work, but I won’t be long.” Hilleman got into his car and drove fifteen miles to Merck. He rummaged around his laboratory, opening and closing drawers, until he found cotton swabs and a vial of straw-colored nutrient broth. By the time he got home, Jeryl had fallen back to sleep. So he gently touched her shoulder, woke her up, stroked the back of her throat with the cotton swab, and inserted it into the vial of broth. Then he comforted her, drove back to work, put the nutrient broth in a laboratory freezer, and drove home.
…When he got back to his laboratory, he took the broth containing Jeryl’s virus and inoculated it into an incubating hen’s egg; in the center of the egg was an unborn chick. During the next few days the virus grew in the membrane that surrounded the chick embryo. Hilleman then removed the virus and inoculated it into another egg. After passing the virus through several different eggs, Hilleman tried something else. He took an egg that had been incubating for twelve days and removed the gelatinous, dark brown chick embryo. Typically it takes about three weeks for an egg to hatch, so the embryo was still very small, weighing about the same as a teaspoon of salt. Hilleman cut off the head of the unborn chick, minced the body with scissors, treated the fragments with a powerful enzyme, watched the chick embryo dissolve into a slurry of individual cells, and placed the cells into a laboratory flask. … Chick cells soon reproduced to cover the bottom of the flask. Hilleman passed Jeryl Lynn’s mumps virus from one flask of chick cells to the next and watched as the virus got better and better at destroying the cells. He repeated this procedure five times.
Chicken farmers are in the business of converting carbohydrate (grain) into protein (meat). “There are two kinds of chicken breeders in this world,” recalled Hilleman. “There are those who breed chickens to get maximum egg production, and those who breed for maximum meat production. They all, with the exception of one company, would breed for resistance to Marek’s disease.” The one company was Hubbard Farms of Walpole, New Hampshire.
In 1921 Oliver Hubbard, one of the first students to graduate from the University of New Hampshire with a degree in poultry farming, founded Hubbard Farms. By the early 1930s, Hubbard had developed the New Hampshire chicken, a breed unrivaled for egg and meat production. But there was one problem. The New Hampshire chicken was more susceptible to Marek’s disease than any other breed. “Hubbard Farm chickens were by far the most productive means of converting carbohydrate to protein than any other chicken in the world,” remembered Hilleman. “But if you got Marek’s into the flock, you were done.” Hilleman saw an opportunity for Merck. “Merck was out for an acquisition, and it was obvious what to do. We’ll buy Hubbard! [We’ll combine] these efficient carbohydrate-to-protein chickens with the vaccine that compensated for their genetic susceptibility to Marek’s disease.”
In 1974, Merck bought Hubbard Farms for $70 million. Hilleman’s vaccine, the first to prevent cancer in any species, revolutionized the poultry business. Excess production caused the price of chickens to drop from $2 per broiler to forty cents and of eggs from fifty cents per dozen to five cents. Soon everyone could afford chickens, and for a while, Merck, one of the more conservative pharmaceutical companies in the United States, was the biggest chicken and egg producer in the world.