Children's Hospital Boston
Three years ago I was interviewing Dr. Judah Folkman, considered by many to be the father of a groundbreaking cancer treatment known as anti-angiogenesis. Folkman had first theorized in the 1960s that blocking angiogenesis, the term given to blood vessel growth, would starve cancer tumors to death. The ideas were widely dismissed at the time, but came to the fore with the release of Genentech's (DNA) Avastin, the first anti-angiogenesis drug to reach the market.
I was writing a BusinessWeek profile of Folkman at his long-awaited moment of glory, a huge cancer meeting where Avastin's success was heralded. Folkman had every right to boast to a reporter for a national magazine. Instead, he kept asking me to wait while he talked to yet another cancer patient attending the meeting who was eager to seek his counsel. When I finally did get him to focus on the interview, he was far more eager to tell me about the work being carried out by the young scientists in his lab (BusinessWeek.com, 6/6/05) than his own major discoveries (BusinessWeek.com, 6/6/05).
It's that generosity of spirit that explains why the death of the 74-year-old Folkman on Jan. 15 sent waves of grief across the medical community and the generations of researchers and doctors who revered him. Folkman suffered a heart attack in the Denver airport en route to Vancouver to give yet another speech at, yes, another meeting on angiogenesis. Folkman was never one to rest on his laurels. "He was always so generous with his time, he mentored so many," says Dr. William Li, director of the nonprofit Angiogenesis Foundation in Boston. "He was one of the greatest scientific minds of our times."
Folkman was director and founder of the vascular biology program at Children's Hospital in Boston and professor of pediatric surgery at Harvard Medical School. Over his career he taught, hired, or inspired legions of top doctors and researchers—as evidenced by the number of testimonials already posted on the Children's Hospital Web site.
His work was not always met with acclaim. Folkman was thrust into the public eye by an unfortunate front-page New York Times article in 1998 that trumpeted the early results of a drug based on his research. Endostatin had blocked blood vessel growth and shrank cancer tumors, but only in mice. Although Folkman played down the implications of his experiments, Nobel Prize winner James Watson was quoted as saying that Folkman would cure cancer in two years, a spectacular claim picked up by newspapers and magazines around the world.
Endostatin's results proved difficult to replicate, however, and Folkman came under heavy criticism, as did his theory that tumors could be kept in check by cutting off their blood supply.
Folkman stopped talking to the press for a while—but he made an exception a few months after the Times story when I asked him to comment on one of his former research assistants, Robert Langer, who had gone on to make great strides in growing live tissue for organ replacement. "Langer is a genius. Period," he said, willing to praise others but not saying a word in defense of his own reputation, then under attack.
Folkman doggedly pursued his research into angiogenesis, and was finally vindicated. Today there are six anti-angiogenesis drugs for cancer approved by the Food & Drug Administration, and one for age-related blindness. Even Endostatin eventually won approval in China for lung cancer treatment.
But cancer drugs are not Folkman's only legacy. He was a mentor to dozens of scientists who have gone on to leave their own mark. Folkman encouraged researchers to pursue an idea no matter how far out of the mainstream it may be. Langer, an engineering professor at MIT who won the 2007 National Medal of Science, recalls how he came to work in Folkman's lab in the mid-1970s, after a few unsatisfying jobs in the oil industry. "I had a dream that I might someday use my engineering skills to improve people's health," Langer says. "I applied for lots of jobs and received 20 offers, but I thought only one might fulfill that dream. That was with Dr. Folkman. That job changed my life."
Folkman asked Langer to help him isolate the first proteins that would inhibit blood vessel growth, but Langer also worked on developing the first pills that would control the release of medicine, a development that would affect millions. "Dr. Folkman was the greatest role model a young scientist could have," Langer says.
As a science journalist, I have always counted on the magnanimity of scientists to give me background and insight into new developments, and Dr. Folkman was the most reliable of such background sources for me. He was always generous with his time and insight, but his priorities were straight. Just like in that interview in 2005, he would always interrupt me if a patient called. As Langer says, "He was one of the nicest human beings I've ever met and a truly great man."
Arnst is a senior writer for BusinessWeek based in New York.