Of Fly Paper, Esperanto, Algae, Poems, and Polar Bears: In Memory of Ralph Lewin

by Elio

Picture a leading authority on algal genetics and ecology, a discoverer of fascinating microbes from many phyla, an accomplished poet, an Esperantist who translated Winnie the Pooh into that language, a wit, a philosopher, and a nice guy. You have pictured Ralph Lewin, who died in La Jolla, California, in late November. He was one of the last romantic polymaths of science.

In brief celebration of Ralph's contributions, I will recount just one of his discoveries: a novel way evolved by certain bacteria for preying on others. The predators are saprospiras, marine gliding bacteria in the phylum Bacteroidetes. They make long, multicellular, helical filaments that glide on solid substrates at the goodly rate of 2-5 μm/second, presumably the result of streams of extruded surface mucilage. Abundant on marine sand, they subsist, in part, by killing other bacteria and protists, then digesting their constituents. How they grab their prey is what's so unusual here.

Phase-contrast micrograph of filaments of a
freshwater Saprospira sp. Source

Unsuspecting bacteria swimming nearby become trapped when the tips of their flagella become stuck in the mucilage on the saprospira filament. No chemotaxis seems to be involved, just approaching too closely. Dozens of live bacteria still spinning on their axes become attached to a single filament, eventually to cover its surface. Extracellular enzymes secreted by the saprospira finish them off. This killing can be observed on agar surfaces with a lawn of susceptible bacteria; clear plaques are formed by lysis of the prey cells. Not all motile bacteria qualify as prey. For example, non-marine but flagellated cells such as E. coli aren't prey, and only 7 out of 25 marine members of the Vibrionaceae could be caught and destroyed.

Phase contrast micrograph of Saprospira grandis
filaments 1 min after immersion in a suspension of
flagellated cells of an oceanic Vibrio. Bar = 10 μm.
Source

Lewin called this phenomenon ixotrophy, which he defined as "feeding on prey caught on a sticky substance such as bird-lime or flypaper." But what is "bird lime?" This sent me on an etymological hunt. Indeed, the Greek root ixo- refers to it: "a sticky material prepared from plants and smeared on twigs to catch small birds that light on it."

This is but one example of Lewin's contributions to science and culture. Others earned him the appellation of "father of green algae genetics." He was the first to point out that a primitive marine alga, Prochloron, is the likely ancestor of plant chloroplasts. What else? The list is long. When the polar bears of the San Diego Zoo were turning green, Ralph found out that this was due to cyanobacteria in their hair. Easy to fix, he suggested, by bathing in dilute bleach. Beyond that, he authored a book called Merde: Excursions in Scientific, Cultural, and Socio-Historical Coprology, demonstrating that one could deal with even that subject with elegance and wit.

Prochloron

When algae all were bluish-green
And all prokaryotic,
The land (the non-aquatic scene)
Was mostly quite chaotic,

Prochloron cells’ potential role,
Though relatively close, is
Not quite the ancestor we need
For algal symbiosis.

A small sampling of his informal and creative writings is available online: his musings on the Saprospiras, and a collection of more than 150 of his poems on plants, invertebrates, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals, medical topics, memories, food, times, space, travel, places, pollution, religion, politics, songs, etc.

Ralph was an original.

Comments

[Lisa Helmuth Teague]

Ralph Lewin was a strong presence in my childhood and my father just told me of his death.

Ralph and my father, Esperantist Frank Helmuth, were great friends. They were linked not only by the Esperanto movement, but also by an deep and essential curiosity about the complex workings of the world.

When I was in elementary school I considered it a wonderful treat to visit Ralph in his office at Scripps Institute and take in all that was going on there. He answered my incessant questions patiently in English or in Esperanto depending on where our conversation ranged.

I would like to share one special memory of Ralph Lewin.

In the mid 1960s Ralph's lab at Scripps contained a saltwater aquarium in which resided three small octopi. I remember their agile movements and my fascination with their watery world. But the best thing would be going outside with Ralph and finding earthworms to feed to the octopi.

We were quite a pair, a small blonde girl in a sundress walking seriously next to the British microbiologist clad in shirt, shorts, long socks and sandals, warm in the sunshine of a La Jolla afternoon. Both of us gazing intently at the ground, then pouncing and grubbing in the soft earth when the worm was spotted. Popping our prey into a jar and moving on with the hunt. Returning to the lab, we would feed the octopi and Ralph would talk of looking for small things in the sea and read to me from Winnie-La-Pu and other Esperanto children's books.

He was a great scientist and a great Esperantist. I had not seen him for many years, but those afternoons at Scripps will be with me always.

[Toño]

I'm not a biologist, but I am an Esperantist, and I must say that I much enjoyed Ralph's translation of Winnie the Pooh.
As a way of thanking him posthumously, this was my obituary (in Spanish):
http://www.soitu.es/participacion/2008/12/06/u/tonyo_1228518174.html

[Mark O. Martin]

Elio and Merry, thank you for posting the collection of Ralph Lewin's poetry. It was charming and skilled and thoughtful. I wish I had known him better, for that and many other reasons. Requiescat in pace, and condolences again to Professor Lewin's colleagues, friends, and family.

[Mark O. Martin]

Oh, I had no idea about Ralph Lewin's passing. Condolences to all who knew him. He exchanged a few e-mails with me years ago, and was always engaged and thoughtful and courtly with me.

I think that I will go looking for Saprospira here locally, and think of him as I do. I found some by "16s snapshot," so I know that they are present!

We microbiologists often squeeze living things between glass slide and coverslip, making the microbial world a bit two dimensional by doing so (yes, before confocal laser microscopy!). But Ralph Lewin, as Elio so eloquently posts, was very three-dimensional.

A great man, and greatly missed. Thank you for giving us all more insights into his multifaceted interests.

"Der Tod ist gross," as Rilke wrote. Death is large, indeed. And we are all the poorer with each passing.