life and reflections of a psychologist-psychophysiologist from a personal and historical perspective

INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PSYCHOPHYSIOLOGY

ELSEVIER International Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141

Life and reflections of a psychologist-psychophysiologist from a personal and historical perspective

Donald B. Lindsley

Departments of Psychology and Physiology Member, Brain Research Institute University of California, Los Angeles, CA, USA

Received 20 March 1995; revised 20 July 1995; accepted 5 September 1995

1. Prologue

Physiology as an experimental science began early in the nineteenth century, while Psychology and it’s subdiscipline Physiological Psychology made their formal appearance in the latter half of that century, while Psychophysiology as a common term and subdiscipline, along with others, followed the three- volume work of Troland by the title The Principles

of Psychophysiology, Volume I (1929) subtitled The

Problems of Psychology; Perception. Volume II (1930) was subtitled Sensation; Volume III (1932) subtitled Cerebration and Action. A fourth volume, I believe, due to his health and eventual death in 1932 prevented him from completing, was entitled The

Ultimate Theory of Mind and Matter. Troland’s writ- ings were heavily weighted with philosophy, psychology and psychophysics but lacked much in physiology and even psychophysiology such as the work of Henri Pieron and others of earlier and contemporary nature. What I believe he wanted to achieve was a psychophysiology, which preserved the concepts so frequently represented in the psychology texts of the first two decades of the century, namely, conscious-

ness, attention and cognition. But all he had to offer at the time was the Wundtian-Tichenerian method of introspection, so avidly disposed of by John B. Wat- son and other behaviorists such as E.B. Holt, A.P.

Weiss, Max F. Meyer, and Walter S. Hunter. In the 1930s and 194Os, a new set of behaviorists dominated the scene such as Clark S. Hull, Kenneth W. Spence, B.F. Skinner and others. With the rise of a neo-cognitive psychology of the 1950s and beyond, it may seem that Troland had a vision of this future, but lacked the knowledge of the newly developing technologies and instrumentation which would make his hoped for psychophysiology come alive and prosper, which it seems to have done.

Elsewhere, I have written extensively on the history of Physiological Psychology in a chapter in a little book dedicated to the memory of Floyd Ruth and his very successful text Psychology and Life over many years. Ten of us were invited to contribute chapters on the areas of psychology (Fifty

Years of Psychology: Essays in Honor of Floyd

Ruth, E.R. Hilgard, General Editor, 1988). Ruth, in the pragmatic manner of William James,

had brought the matter of life and it’s everyday problems into focus in his psychology text, and always in each edition had given space to physiology and behavior and to the brain and nervous system as James had done. I will quote here one paragraph from my contribution to the formal origins of Psy- chology and Physiological Psychology. “The concept and name Physiological Psychology was first introduced in the latter half of the nine-

0167-8760/95/$09.50 0 1995 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved SSDI 0167-8760(95)00034-E

84 D.3. Lindsley/fnternarional Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995183-141

teenth century by Wilhelm Wundt (1832- 19201, a German physiologist and philosopher who became a psychologist and the generally recognized founder of physiological psychology (first textbook) and experi-

mental psychology (first formal laboratory). Wundt published his two-volume work Grundziige der phys-

iologischen PsychoZogie @rinciples of Physiological Psychology) in 1873-74. He established the first formal laboratory of psychology at Leipzig Univer- sity in 1879. In all, there were six editions of the book, the last in 1911. Only one volume of the 1902-1903 5th edition was translated into English by his former student, E.B. Titchener. It was published by Macmillan in 1904. Three other physiological psychology texts were published within the span of Wundt’s six editions: George T. Ladd’s Elements of Physiological Psychology (1897), and a revised edition with Robert S. Woodworth in 191 I); Theodor Ziehen’s Introduction to Physiological Psy-

chology (1895); and William McDougall’s Physio- logical Psychology (1905).” (From: Fifty Years of

Psychology: Essays in Honor of Floyd Ruth. Ed.: E.R. Hillgard. Scott, Foresman and Company, Glen- view, Illinois, 1988. pp. 27-55).

Throughout my chapter, I emphasized the importance of new technologies and the invention of various instruments which could be applied in experimental study of physiological and psychological problems. I felt fortunate that early in my graduate student and subsequent career I had been introduced to electrophysiology, which led to electromyographic and electroencephalographic studies.

In order to provide an overall perspective, I decided to start with a brief career sketch. Then, under appropriate headings, fill in details of heritage, early environment and education, academic pursuits, scientific and professional activities, and finally some thoughts about the past, present and future of psychology. Such a backdrop might enable a curious reader to extract some cause and effect relationships which have eluded me. I am too close to the events and too much a part of the story, even at the age of 87 and after official retirement 17 years ago, to make such evaluations objectively. However, I believe it will be evident that I have thoroughly enjoyed my life, my family and career, and have no regrets. I am proud to have been a part of the growth and development of psychology as a science and a profession.

While my own contributions to psychology stem largely from a biological, neurological and medical orientation, I have always felt strongly its social values and its potential role in a human and humane society.

2. Career sketch

I was born and grew up in a little country village (Brownhelm, Lorain County, Ohio), a six square-mile township on the south shore of Lake Erie, about 35 miles west of Cleveland. The first 17 years of my life were spent in this wonderful little farming community with one general store. For 12 years I was enrolled in the same little consolidated school, graduating from high school in 1925 in a class of 14, eight boys and six girls, which then was considered a large class. When I started in the first grade, there were only four little boys. I was the only one who continued on schedule to graduation. One moved away, one was kicked in the head by a horse damag- ing the left motor speech area with partial motor aphasia causing him to fall behind, the third one fell behind for other reasons. As more children came to the consolidated school from outlying little red brick elementary schoolhouses my class grew to 14 in number!

Up to this time, few if any high school graduates in this small village went on to college and it seems unlikely that I would had it not been for our high school principal, science teacher and coach, Mr. William H. Marshall. He took a personal interest in me, urged me to go to college, and convinced me that I could work my way through as he had done.

In the Fall of 1925, after earning some money during the summer, I entered Wittenberg College (now Wittenberg University) in Springfield, Ohio. In 1929, I graduated with an A.B. degree, with a major in psychology and a minor in philosophy, and with the equivalent of a major in business administration. Professor Martin Luther Reymert was my inspiration and guiding light in psychology. He encouraged me to go on to graduate school in psychology. In the Fall of 1929, I entered the graduate program in psychology at the University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa, where Carl Emil Seashore was the long-time Head of the Department and Dean of the Graduate College. Professor Lee Edward Travis became my

D.B. Lindsley/ International Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 85

advisor and sponsor. I had a major in experimental and physiological psychology and a minor in physiology. I also had course credits and experience in clinical psychology, which was hardly recognized as an entity at that time, but to the extent that it was, Iowa’s program under Travis was at the forefront and turned out many leaders in clinical psychology and speech pathology.

In August of 1932, three years after I started, I was awarded my Ph.D. Dr. Travis, who supervised both my masters and doctoral theses in physiological psychology, had been a great inspiration and role model for me as well as many others. Dean Seashore was also a man I admired greatly. He was a distinguished leader in psychology of that era and was one of the few early psychologists to be honored by election to the National Academy of Sciences in 1922. Those who had preceded him were James McKeen Cattell (19011, William James (19031, John Dewey (19101, G. Stanley Hall (19151, Edward Lee Thomdike (19171, James Rowland Angel1 (19201, and Robert Sessions Woodworth (1921). However high my aspirations might have been as a young Iowa Ph.D. in 1932, I feel sure my wildest fantasies at that time could not have anticipated that 30 years after Seashore and 20 years after my Ph.D., I would be similarly honored by election in 1952. Only one other Iowa Ph.D. in psychology had been elected previously, Walter R. Miles in 1933. He had taken his degree with Seashore in 1913. As far as I am aware, only three other Iowa Ph.D.s in psychology have been so honored since my election in 1952, those being Benton J. Underwood in 1970, Leon Festinger in 1972, and Abram Amsel in 1992.

Job opportunities in academia were almost nil in 1932 as the great economic depression deepened further following the stock market collapse of Octo- ber 1929, a month after I began my graduate studies. Nevertheless, my optimism remained high, and fortunately, at the last minute, I found a temporary one-year instructorship at the University of Illinois, replacing Professor Paul T. Young who suddenly decided to take sabbatical leave. During the 1932-33

year, I applied for, and was awarded, a National Research Council (NRC) Post-doctoral Fellowship, one of two awarded in psychology for the year 1933-34. After some indecision, with three first-rate opportunities at hand, I decided to spend the year in

the Department of Physiology at Harvard Medical School. The Fellowship was renewed for 1934-35, and part of that year I spent in the Department of Neuropsychiatry at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. In 1935, jobs were even more scarce than

in 1932, but by chance and good luck to be explained later I was able to obtain a three-year Re- search Associate appointment at Western Reserve University Medical School in Cleveland.

From 1938-46, except for three years during World II when I was Director of a Radar Operator Research and Training Program in military installa- tions, I was an assistant professor of psychology at Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island, and Director of Psychology and Neurophysiology Labo- ratories at Bradley Hospital in East Providence. From 1946-51, I was professor of psychology at North- western University in Evanston, Illinois, and began a very fruitful research collaboration with Horace W. Magoun at the Medical School in downtown Chicago. In the summer of 1949, I taught at Columbia Univer- sity and frequently hobnobbed with Professor Robert S. Woodworth, who like myself had an early mom- ing class, even though he was then 80 years of age. Another memorable event was meeting General Dwight D. Eisenhower and his wife Mamie. He had become President of Columbia University the year before, and on this occasion had a welcoming reception for visiting faculty. By 1953, Eisenhower had become the 34th President of the United States and held that office for two-terms until 1961. I was invited to teach summer school at the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA) in 1950 and the following year moved there to a joint professorship in Psychology and the new UCLA Medical School. In 1977 at the age of 70, I became Professor Emeri- tus.

During the 17 years since retirement, I have kept active and quite busy with many scientific and professional matters of local, national and international character. I have written articles and chapters for books, served on Ph.D., promotion and other committees at UCLA, continued on some editorial boards of journals, reviewed grant and Fellowship applications for federal agencies and private foundations, and have written many letters of recommendation and evaluation. Last, but by no means least, I have kept up an active correspondence with a number of

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my 50 Ph.D.s, and some 70 post-doctorals and others, including 25 foreign visitors, who over the years had worked in my laboratories in the Brain Research Institute and Department of Psychology, or who were sponsored by me in collaboration with others. Their subsequent progress in research and academic advancement has been one of my greatest sources of satisfaction and pride.

3. Heritage and early environment

My parents and grandparents were all born within a 40-mile radius of Cleveland, Ohio, and both pater- nal and maternal ancestry traces back to New Eng- land in pre-Revolutionary War days. I was born December 23, 1907 in Brownhelm, Ohio, the youngest of four sons born to Benjamin Kent Linds- ley (1872-1937) and Martha Elizabeth (Jenne) Lind- sley (1875- 1964). Harold, the first born (18971, died in infancy. John Raymond (1899-1978) graduated from the then three-year high school and soon thereafter, in the spirit of patriotism upon the U.S. entry into World War I, enlisted in the Army at the age of 17 with my father’s consent. When he returned from France after the war, he managed A & P grocery stores for several years, rising to divisional manager of a dozen stores. He then took a correspondence course in accounting and became a certified public accountant for the rest of his life. Kent Sherman (1902- 1937) also managed A & P stores but died early of a heart attack. My brothers being somewhat older than I were probably more caretakers than competitive siblings. However, I did not lack for playmates for the house where I was born and delivered by a country doctor, who came by horse and buggy, was adjacent to the local school. From the time I was 3 or 4 years old, I spent much of my time in the schoolyard playing with anyone who was available during recesses, noon hour, or after school. I soon became well known to all who attended that school, including the teachers, and received much friendly attention. At 5 years 8 months of age, I entered the first grade and continued in the same school until graduation in 1925 by which time it was a four-year high school.

Ben and Mattie Lindsley, as my parents were affectionately known, were highly respected and revered in the Brownhelm community. Dad was for

years Clerk and Treasurer of the Brownhelm Trustees concerned with the building and upkeep of roads, bridges, storm drains and so forth. He was also Clerk of the Board of Education responsible for the schools. Ours was a very harmonious and happy family, in which love, understanding and respect were tacitly experienced and understood without overt demon- strations of affection or laudation, yet our feelings, pride and satisfaction with respect to one another were always strong and supportive. Praise was ad- ministered sparingly, and so was punishment, but my brothers and I “knew” by other less obvious mani- festations when our parents were proud of our behavior and performance, as we did also when they were not!

Despite privations of country life at that time - no indoor toilets, running water, or electricity - which was typical of the community at large, life was good and my brothers and I appreciated it. As I look back on it now, there was very little culture in an intellectually sophisticated sense in my home or the community, but to me there was a vast and rich culture of quite another sort, a feeling of oneness with nature. A feeling not unlike that one gets from reading the pioneering, Ohio-based trilogy of Conrad Richter, The Trees (19401, The Fields (1946) and The Town (1950). Social activities and some degree of culture were brought to the community by dedicated teachers in the school and by interning minis- ters from Oberlin College Seminary in our Congre- gational Church. One of these came with a baritone horn and started a town band, teaching each of us how to play an instrument; mine was the comet or trumpet, which later became important to me in college and graduate school.

In high school, I was interested in just about everything, partly because there were so relatively few of us. I was a good student but mainly confined my studying to school periods. I participated in the school orchestra, glee club, plays and the school paper, but athletics was my main interest at the time. I mentioned earlier that the principal was our science teacher and coach, and he was an admired role model for me. I was captain of the school basketball team the year it won the country-school county championship played in the Oberlin College gymna- sium. In track, I won medals in polevault, discus and broad jump. In baseball, I also captained the team

D.B. Lindsley/International Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 81

and was highly motivated because my cousin, Burt Shotton, had made a career in the major leagues playing with the old. St. Louis Browns and Washing- ton Senators. At one time in the 1920s he was Branch Rickey’s Sunday manager of the St. Louis

Cardinals, Rickey having promised his mother he would never manage on Sunday! He later managed successfully several teams in the International and

National Leagues.

4. On to Wittenberg College (1925-29)

I arrived at Wittenberg College in early Septem- ber of 1925 full of exhilaration and excitement but with no idea at all of what courses I might be taking. My parents had suggested that business courses might be the way to go. I certainly had no inkling that psychology might be one of the courses. I don’t believe I was even familiar with the word or what it meant. I knew only that I was to sign up for 16 semester units of credit. One of the courses my advisor suggested was psychology, along with certain courses required of first-year students.

Wittenberg, like many other colleges and universities of the 1920s had decided to emancipate psychology from philosophy and establish a separate Department of Psychology and had brought Dr. Mar- tin L. Reymert there from the University of Oslo as its Professor and Head. Reymert was a Norwegian who had taken his Ph.D. in Psychology at Clark University in 1917 under a famous pioneer in Ameri- can psychology, G. Stanley Hall, who was Professor and Head of Psychology, and President of Clark University from 1889-1919. Prior to that, Hall had headed one of the early psychology departments at Johns Hopkins University (188 l-88) and had established the first formal psychology laboratory there in 1883. He had authored important books on childhood, adolescence and senescence. His interest in childhood development may have been responsible for Reymert’s decision to spend two post-doctoral years at the newly established Iowa Child Welfare Station at the University of Iowa under its Director, Bird T. Baldwin. During that time, Reymert became an admirer and close friend of Carl E. Seashore, Professor and Head of Psychology and Dean of the Graduate School.

Reymert was also a friend of E.B. Titchener at

Cornell University and was strongly influenced by his “structuralism” and introspective methods. In 1926, when allowed to add two people to his staff, Reymert chose a husband-wife team, both in the Titchenerian mold. The husband, Homer G. Bishop, had taken his Ph.D. with Titchener in 1920; his wife, Margaret K. Bishop, had taken her Ph.D. with Mar- garet Floyd Washburn at Vassar College, who in turn had been Titchener’s first Ph.D. in 1894 at Cornell. Titchener, of course, was a Wundtian, who had earned his Ph.D. with Wundt at Leipzig University in 1892. Interestingly, Reymert was a friend of both Titchener and Hall, who were not always on friendly terms because of diverging views about psychology and its development in the United States.

Thus, the Department of Psychology founded at Wittenberg College by Reymert in 1925 had a strong Titchenerian flavor. Titchener’s “A Text-book of

Psychology” was used in the introductory course, which I took as a freshman student. This book of Titchener’s was a 1921 edition, derived and enlarged from 1896 and 1909 editions. Professor E.G. Boring of Harvard in his A History of Experimental Psy-

chology (1929, p.409), said of this book by Titch- ener that it was “much too difficult for the sopho- mores for whom it was intended.” Boring had taken his Ph.D. with Titchener in 1914, and remained a lifelong admirer, though also a critic.

Nevertheless, I did well in the course and was encouraged by Reymert to take the experimental course in the second semester. In the latter course, Reymert used Titchener’s “Experimental Psychol-

ogy”, Vol. I, Qualitatiue, Student’s Manual (1901)

and Vol. II, Quantitatiue, Student’s Manual (1905).

These books and Titchener’s concept of psychology made a lasting impression on me. While I presume that my stage of maturity at that time was not such as to have allowed a very profound appreciation of Titchener’s system, it was further reinforced as a graduate student at Iowa in a course called “Sys- tematic Psychology” under Professor Christian A. Ruckmick, who had taken his Ph.D. with Titchener at Cornell in 1913. For Titchener, physics was a good model for psychology to emulate, and one can see this reflected in his books. His descriptions of apparatus, procedures, and even his concepts and theories were very concisely and clearly stated and showed great depth of intellect and dedication to the

88 D.B. Lindsley / International Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141

establishment of a sound base and foundation for the science of psychology as he conceived it.

Titchener’s “structuralist” system was a far cry from the radical “behaviorism” of John B. Watson and the more moderate behavior theories of A.P.

Weiss, E.B . Holt, Max F. Meyer, Walter S. Hunter and others of the 1920s. Some of its features were retained by the so-called “functionalists” such as J.R. Angel1 and Harvey A. Carr at the University of Chicago, Carl E. Seashore at U. of Iowa, Robert S. Woodworth at Columbia, Walter B. Pillsbury at U. of Michigan, and Madison Bentley at U. of Illinois and Cornell, the latter two being students of Titch- ener. It all but disappeared in the 1930s and 40s under the influence of Clark L. Hull, Kenneth W. Spence, B.F. Skinner and others. For quite a long time, E.G. Boring remained loyal and a staunch supporter, but also a critic. Gestalt theory in a limited way shared some communality, but also major differences. The gradual re-emergence of Fechnerian psychophysics in the 1930s and 1940s found a place for a modified introspective approach. Interestingly, terms such as attention, cognition and consciousness, which were common in most of the introductory texts of the first two and half decades of the 20th century, then dropped out but began to reappear in the 1950s and 6Os! A neo-cognitive psychology thrives today.

Returning again to Wittenberg as of 1925-26, the experimental course was held in one fairly large (about 1000 square feet) room comprising the attic of the Physics building. Reymert’s “office” and desk occupied a small area in one comer shielded by portable floor screens. A number of small tables were distributed around the room and even in the space outside the room under the sloping rafters where two people could sit opposite one another, but not stand! These were the Experimenter (E) and the Observer (O), or subject, observer-introspectionist . The role of the “0” in these experiments was not a “passive” one for the “0” was expected to learn to introspect and be able to give a comprehensive report of experiences as a subject. That is, he was expected to “observe” and report immediate aware- ness of sensory experience, mental processes such as images, thoughts, feelings and so forth; also become aware of muscle tension or relaxation via proprioceptive and kinaesthetic cues as in modem biofeedback

procedures. The subjective reports might be immediate or ongoing, or delayed and reported from memory depending upon whether “reporting” interfered with the nature of the stimulation or task being performed. The “E” was expected to make observations of the overt aspects of behavior and record the subjective reports; also, control the stimulating and recording apparatus, if any was involved in measurement of overt or covert activity.

Donald W. Dysinger, who was one year ahead of me in college, was my laboratory partner and we worked well as a team, exchanging roles periodi- cally. After graduation, he went on to a Ph.D. with Travis at Iowa which, as it turned out, I would also do. After his Ph.D. in 193 1, he began a career appointment in Psychology at the University of Ne- braska, rising to Professor and Head of the department from 1948-68.

In the experimental course, most of our experiments came from Titchener’s manuals (or E.C. San- ford’s (1898) “Experimental Psychology” and laboratory manual), but several were planned and prepared by Professor Reymert, or were left for us to plan and prepare on our own initiative. I recall a few of these such as one involving one-inch square wooden cubes (known as Knox cubes). Four of these were mounted about two inches apart on a small base board. A fifth cube was used by the “E” to tap out a pattern of 4 to 10 or 12 taps in various sequences ranging from simple to complex. The “0” then took the cube and attempted to reproduce the pattern of taps either immediately or after a time delay during which the cubes were concealed from view. This very simple and inexpensive device could be used for patterned motor learning and memory experiments, spatial and temporal perception, and even rhythmic pattern tapping. Later, I believe, the Knox Cube Test became a component or formal part of the Cornell-Coxe and/or the (Grace) Arthur Per- formance tests of intelligence, especially appropriate for normal children and mentally retarded individu- als.

Other experiments included motor skills learning in ball and dart throwing at scaled targets. There was also a device designed by Reymert and called a “tensiometer”. This was a 4 X 4 X 24 inch wooden box with a slit along the top through which a pointer projected so as to be read against a centimeter/milli-

D.B. Lindsley/lnternationl Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 89

meter scale only visible to the “E”. The pointer was attached to a spring-loaded plunger inside the box with its handle projecting out one end. The subject’s task was to reproduce a pre-established degree of muscular tension derived from biceps and triceps muscles of the upper arm. There was also a variety of reaction time experiments employing visual, auditory and tactual stimuli and different types of finger responses with attention focused or concentrated upon the stimuli (sensory set) or the response (motor set). There were numerous other experiments involving sensory, perceptual, motor and emotional reactions with accurate German chronoscopes, and even a newly devised psycho-galvanometer, including one stage of amplification invented by Starke Hathaway while a graduate student at Ohio State in 1928-32, and supplied by Stoelting & Co. in Chicago in about 1928.

These courses and the laboratory experiments initiated mainly by Professor Reymert captured the interest and enthusiasm of a good many students, and among them, in addition to Don Dysinger and myself who went on to Iowa for our Ph.D.s, were perhaps 10 or 12 others who attained Ph.D.s at Harvard, Ohio State, North Carolina, Vienna, Washington and New York universities. All of these students were inducted into psychology during the five years Reymert was at Wittenberg, after which he became Director of the Laboratory of Child Research at Mooseheart, a fine large community-like reservation of homes for orphaned children of members of the Moose Lodge at Mooseheart, Illinois, west of Chicago.

During my first year at Wittenberg College, the economics of survival was a problem for me. Fortu- nately, tuition then was only $75 a semester and food and lodging were not expensive, but my summer earnings were soon exhausted. During that year, I had numerous jobs, ate one meal a day as a rule, and lived in a closet-like room of a private home, the top floor of which was rented to about 10 of us who could not afford to live in a fraternity house or even the college dormitory. My jobs that year were varied and somewhat unusual, but interesting even though somewhat demanding in time and effort for relatively little recompense. Early in the Fall before the rains, another chap and I were hired by the college to shift the hoses on the football field every hour or so

all night long, there being no built-in sprinkling system. I think this is when I learned to get along on little sleep as I still do!

Other jobs included working in the boy’s department of the Boston Store, ushering in the Loew’s vaudeville and movie theater, clerking in a ladies shoe store, and riding a bicycle around Springsfield (75,000 population) to make an advertising list of homes with large lawns for the then little-known

Scott Grass Seed Company of nearby Marysville, Ohio, which for many years since has been a leading U.S. company in that field. I also served meals and washed dishes in the freshman girls dormitory. In subsequent years, I fared much better as a student-assistant in the psychology department at $35 a month and working for my meals at a sorority house. I was even able to accept an invitation to join the Phi Gamma Delta fraternity and live in the fraternity house. This was an important social and fraternal experience for me then and a lifelong association with my fraternal brothers and various alumni groups. Many years later, the national fraternity honored me along with five others for distinguished achievement (Phi Gamma Delta magazine, Summer edition, 1981).

The most interesting and significant courses for me at Wittenberg were probably those in psychology, philosophy, physics and acoustics. The latter course was taught by a stimulating young instructor doing a one-year teaching stint at Wittenberg. He had, I believe, recently taken his Ph.D. with G.W. Pierce, a noted physicist at Harvard who then had a unique underground acoustic laboratory. Martin Grabau, the young instructor, became a good friend who, surprisingly, I met again when I was a fellow at Harvard Medical School (1933-35). He then taught at Harvard and was a tutor at Elliot House where he once invited my wife and me to Sunday dinner, after which he entertained us, playing his favorite Bach fugues on the piano.

Toward the end of my first year at Wittenberg, having done well in the introductory and experimental courses, Professor Reymert invited me to become his assistant in those courses, since his senior assistant was graduating. I was surprised and overwhelmed, but accepted. As it turned out, I became more than his assistant in the courses. He had no secretary, so in a sense I became that as well. He bought a little Willys Overland “Whippet” automo-

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bile but didn’t like to drive, so I became his “chauffeur.” He lived with an old German couple on the far side of the city, where he often read late at night and was one of those people who find it difficult to become fully awake in the morning. It was my

responsibility to drive there and see that the German lady had brought his mug of black coffee, that he had a fresh pair of socks, and was properly attired for the trip to the campus. So, in a sense I was his “valet”!

By the time we reached the campus, he was alert and ready to lecture, and remained highly dynamic and active both mentally and physically all day. He was about 5’2” in height and probably weighed less than 100 pounds. He had a sprightly walk with his heels barely touching the ground. He told me once that as a youth he had served his military duty in Norway in the ski troops. Recalling an old shibboleth about Swedish-Norwegian conflict, “Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one lone Norwegian.” I asked facetiously if he was the one. He just laughed heartily, for he had a good sense of humor and often kidded me about things. Our relationship was almost like father and son; certainly he was an academic father to me.

I have already dealt at considerable length with my life as a student at Wittenberg, but I have more to add for two reasons. First, it was an era (1925-29) in which great transitions in psychology were beginning to take place, shifting from emphasis on “schools” of psychology (see Psychologies of 1925, and 1930, C. Murchison, Ed.), represented by description content-global theories, to experiment- methodology-miniature theories. More will be said later about such transitions. Secondly, it was a very important period for me, I now realize in retrospect, for it provided very early a broad perspective of the schools, fields, and organizations in psychology, and especially knowledge about or introduction to many distinguished psychologists. In some respects, this may have been superficial and without depth due to my immaturity, but it later provided a framework which motivated me to try to understand it in a broader, deeper context. I don’t mean to imply that I ever accomplished such a goal, but at least I tried. I believe these early experiences may have played a part in my later decisions and career directions, although I often attribute the latter to chance circum-

stances and my good fortune (“Lucky Lindsley!“). I doubt that many undergraduate majors in psychology had the following kinds of experiences and opportunities that came to me as a protege of Professor Reymert.

Reymert was not a great scientist or research man. He was a scholar with considerable background knowledge of the past and present in psychology and philosophy at that time. He knew who had done what and where, and I believe his viewpoint was somewhat eclectic despite the fact that he used Titchener’s books. His alert, amiable and aggressive disposition seemed to make it possible, for him to become acquainted personally or by correspondence with a majority of the distinguished psychologists in Europe and America during the 1920s. In addition, he was an entrepreneur and promoter in the best sense of those words, as the following will testify.

By the Spring of his first year at Wittenberg he had convinced the President, Rees Edgar Tulloss, who held a doctorate in Psychology from Harvard, and the Board of Trustees that the Department of Psychology should have a specially designed third- floor in the Chemistry building being planned, and that it should be called the Chemistry-Psychology building. Also, that in the Fall of 1927, when the building would be completed, Psychology should share with Chemistry a live-day joint-dedication period by putting on an International Symposium on Feelings and Emotions, lasting three days. All of this was granted and in the Fall of 1926, correspondence began in earnest with E.B. Titchener at Cornell, James McKeen Cattell at Columbia and Edwin G. Boring at Harvard concerning plans for the event. Immediately thereafter, letters went out to some 40 prospective participants, about half of them from abroad. I typed all of these letters in first draft directly as he dictated their content, the final letters being prepared by a college secretary. All of this was beginning to give me some knowledge as to who major psychologists of the world were, where they were located, and their areas of specialization. Most of the invitees agreed to come in person, except the foreigners, who agreed to submit manuscripts for the event, travel then by ship and rail requiring too long an absence.

During a Spring recess in 1927, I drove Reymert to see Titchener at Cornell, who had agreed to be

D.B. Lindsley/ Inrernationat .Iournal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 91

Honorary Chairman for the Symposium, then on to Cambridge to see Boring. Interestingly, our arrival there coincided with the meeting of the Society of Experimental Psychologists, a prestigious group initiated and dominated by Titchener until his death in

August of 1927. Boring was chairman of the meeting since it was at Harvard. The meetings were held around a long table set up in a broad hallway on the third floor of Emerson Hall. A few non-members were permitted to attend and sit on the sidelines, among them a half-dozen of Boring’s colleagues and graduate students, and three of us from Wittenberg (Reymert, Homer G. Bishop and D.B. Lindsley, a mere sophomore!). I have a most vivid memory of this meeting, and especially an image of Titchener with flowing white beard and a cigar sitting at the head of the table in a most imposing fashion. In front of him, a box of cigars had been dumped on a plate.

In Boring’s write-up of the History of the SEP (American Journal of Psychology, 1938, 51, 410- 421) he mentioned the number in attendance from each institution (top of page 416) and Wittenberg’s three included me! I would never have guessed then that one day (1942) I would be elected to that august group, which after Titchener’s death in 1927 took on a more formal character and organization. Reymert always insisted that I meet whoever he was consulting or conversing with, and thus I got to know many leading psychologists of that era. On this same trip, we visited Carl Murchison, then Editor and Manager of Clark University Press, who had agreed to publish the Symposium volume, Feelings and Emotions: The Wittenberg Symposium. Worcester, Massachusetts: Clark University Press, 1928. Eds. C. Murchison and M. L. Reymert.

The Symposium finally came off, October 19-23, 1927, with great fanfare, and all of us in the Depart- ment of Psychology were kept very busy, especially the three departmental student assistants: Dorothy Dix Markley, who later married Reymert and raised a family at Mooseheart and became a writer; William Schwarzbek, who after a Ph.D. at Ohio State became a supervisor of personnel research for General Elec- tric at Schenectady, and later professor of psychology at Lenoir Rhyne College, Hickory, North Car- olina; and myself. One of my tasks as Reymert’s “chauffeur” was to meet incoming guests at the train station and later transport them from their

hotels to the campus. Thereby, hangs an interesting little sidelight. On one trip, I picked up Professor Knight Dunlap, a prominent experimentalist from Johns Hopkins, a rather hale and hearty individual. As he was getting into the car, I noted that his coat-tail had caught behind a half-pint of whiskey tucked in his back pocket. Thinking this might be a little inappropriate during Prohibition on a Lutheran college campus, I had the temerity to call it to his attention, upon which he laughed, corrected the matter and thanked me.

It had been Reymert’s intention to hold another such symposium after perhaps five years, but by then he had taken a position at Mooseheart, Illinois, and it was not until 1950 that he planned the second one, Feelings and Emotions: The Mooseheart-University of Chicago Symposium. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950. M. L. Reymert, Ed. On this occasion, Reymert invited me to be a participant on the topic: Emotions and the Electroencephalogram, Chapter 19, pp. 238- 246. At that time, I was a full professor at North- western University, and one of my graduate students, Robert J. Ellingson, was doing his thesis research on the EEG of children at Reymert’s Mooseheart Labo- ratory.

During my Junior and Senior years at Wittenberg, Reymert had a young Gestalt psychologist, Carl H. Schneider, come as a visiting professor from Ger- many. So, now we had in addition to the Titchener- ian “structuralist” atmosphere, the “Gestaltist” approach to psychology. At the same time, Reymert felt that we should keep abreast of the “behaviorist” movement, and so five of us (Reymert, Schneider, myself, and two other students) would drive in his “Whippet” car to Columbus to Albert P. Weiss’ Monday evening seminars. Weiss, Samuel Renshaw, and several other Ohio State University faculty, plus a large number of graduate students, would participate in heated discussions. Interestingly, among the numerous Ohio State graduate students at that time were Dael and Helen Wolfle and Dorothy Postle (later to become Mrs. Donald G. Marquis). All three had continuing careers in psychology; Dael Wolfle served as Executive Secretary of the American Psy- chological Association from 1946-50 and Executive Officer of AAAS from 1954-70.

In December of 1928, during the school vacation period, Reymert decided he wanted to attend the

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American Psychological Association annual meeting, which then was held in the period between Christ- mas and New Year’s Day. The meeting that year was held at Columbia University in New York. I drove in the little “Whippet” car, going a week early so that he could visit and stay with relatives in Jamaica Plain, Long Island. He arranged for me to stay at the new International House only a few blocks from the Columbia campus. This was most interesting as all of the international students dress in their native garb at Christmas time. Furthermore, I had almost a week to travel up and down Manhattan via subway and explore the entire city, which I had never seen before. The meeting itself proved to be very interesting and afford yet another opportunity for Reymert to introduce me to many psychologists. My recollection is that the meetings were held in a large lecture room in Schermerhom Hall, which sloped down to the podium, and a unique demonstration took place there, which was subsequently reported in Science. It concerned a German shepherd dog, named Fellow who, like the famous horse, Clever Hans, could do remarkable feats such as identifying people in the audience and otherwise carrying out commands expressed verbally. No one seemed able to explain these feats other than possibly by subtle facial, vocal, or body cues given by the trainer, and he did not reveal how it was accomplished.

5. Graduate study at Iowa (1929-32)

Professor Reymert suggested that I apply for graduate study at Clark University, where Carl Murchison was Chairman, and at the University of Iowa, where Carl Seashore was Head. He knew both of them personally, and I presume wrote “glowing” letters of recommendation, although, of course, I didn’t type these letters! I was offered $250 scholar- ships at both places. I decided in favor of Iowa for Reymert had told me it had a larger and more diversified department. In the years to come, I would learn that this was true, as I observed how Seashore as head of psychology and dean of the graduate school was in a position to advance the interests of psychology.

He had found ways to apply psychology broadly, opening channels of communication and cooperation

in several areas where psychology could make a contribution. Interactional relationships had been started with the departments of education, speech, music, physical education, and medicine (anatomy, physiology, neurology, ophthalmology, otology, and psychiatry). He also had been influential in establish- ing the Iowa Child Welfare Station, which was closely allied with psychology. Thus, Iowa, perhaps more than any other place in the United States at that time, provided opportunity for a broad course structure, research outlets, and application of psychological knowledge and methodology in a variety of areas.

On arrival in Iowa City early in September, 1929, I was met and welcomed by Don Dysinger, my former fellow student at Wittenberg. In the course of my discussions with him, he suggested that I might approach Professor Christian Ruckmick about working with him for my Masters degree, as he had done. He was then starting his Ph.D. with Lee Edward Travis, a brilliant young man, who had taken his Ph.D. with Seashore in 1924 and risen rapidly to Professor status (1928) and, only the year before, had been made Director of the Speech Pathology Clinic and Head of Clinical Psychology. Ruckmick, on the other hand, was a senior person, who had taken his degree with Titchener at Cornell in 1913. Ruckmick had two major research areas of interest, audition and emotion. After talking with him, he agreed to take me on in the area of emotion, and suggested that I go to the library and read all I could on psychogalvanic activity in emotion. This I did, and soon had a considerable bibliography of studies in that area that I had begun to read. Quite by chance, some years later, this would come in handy as I will later relate!

Dysinger had also forewarned me that after a month or so, Dean Seashore, as he was wont to be called, would invite me to his office for an initial conference, as he did with all first-year graduate students in psychology. Even though he was busy in the graduate school as well as psychology, he found time to keep tabs on everyone. Sure enough, early in November, his secretary called me and arranged an appointment. I had been apprised in advance by Dysinger of the questions he would be likely to ask and had accordingly tried to prepare myself. Yes, I had an appropriate schedule of courses, which I

D.B. Lindsley/Internationaa[ JOWM~ of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 93

enumerated, was preparing to take my German ex- of these units and the amplifiers (two> was flat to amination (French and German were required), had above 1000 cycles. Thus, such an instrument was a arranged for an advisor, and was getting enough great advance over the string galvanometer invented sleep and exercise! Then he asked who I would be by Einthoven in 1903; later used by Alexander Forbes working with for my Masters thesis. When I told him of Harvard with amplification in 1920 to record Professor Ruckmick, I thought I detected a slight nerve and muscle currents, or the capillary electrom- scowl come to his face, but he said nothing of eter used by Keith Lucas and E.D. Adrian of Cam- adverse nature. Instead, he asked, “Have you met bridge for similar purposes up to about 1930. I this young man, Travis?” When I replied that I had learned much later that it was my future father-in-law, not, he said, “I want you to go over to the Psycho- Arthur H. Ford, then Professor of Electrical Engi- pathic Hospital, where he has his office and his neering at Iowa, and his student Theodore Hunter laboratories. I will call him and tell him you will be who had planned and built this equipment for Travis coming in soon to talk to him. The hospital is across in 1927. Even the cathode-ray oscillograph (Braun the river on the medical side of the campus.” That tube invented by Karl F. Braun in 18971, first used was the end of the conference, except for one final for recording nerve potentials by Erlanger and Gasser caution as I was about to leave; that he didn’t look in St. Louis in 1923-24, was not as satisfactory favorably upon graduate students getting married because of its single trace and cumbersomeness at before completing the Ph.D.! that time.

As soon as I could, I went to the Psychopathic Hospital and found Travis’ laboratories and office in one basement wing and his psychological and clinical services in another wing. Travis was there in his office and warmly greeted me. A more dynamic and radiant person I had never met before. Tall, erect, enthusiastic, and very cordial, he was quite a contrast to Ruckmick with his rather stiff and formal mien and pointed goatee. Travis was both an experimental and physiological psychologist in his research studies but some of them involved clinical psychiatric patients from the wards above. He took me on a quick trip through the laboratories, where several graduate students were busy with their particular studies, explaining briefly and concisely what their problems were. Some were studying the action currents from bilaterally paired speech muscles of stutterers or other speech defectives. Others were using the electromyogram (EMG) as an index of the latency or reflex time of the knee jerk in normals and psychiatric patients under a variety of conditions and states.

At this point, Travis went to a closet and brought out a box of about three dozen rolls of 35 mm film upon which human forearm electromyograms had been recorded during increasing strengths of hand- grip measured on a hand dynamometer. The records were carefully labelled and the protocols were there. He said I haven’t had time to analyze these and can’t foresee when I will. If you would be interested in undertaking this and extending it much further, you could use it as a Masters thesis, and, if warranted, we could share publication. I had already made up my mind that I wanted to work with this man instead of Ruckmick. He said you speak to Professor Ruck- mick and see if he is agreeable, and if so you can start immediately. I was apprehensive about broach- ing the subject with Ruckmick, but to my surprise, found him agreeable and decent about it. Years later, I always tried to follow the same principle with my graduate students, offering them freedom to change to another advisor, or reciprocally insisting that those who wished to shift to me had the full consent of their advisors.

Travis then showed me the apparatus used to record the electromyogram (EMG) or muscle action currents, as they were then known. He had a newly designed Westinghouse Oscillograph with multi-unit miniature optical galvanometers. These were contained in a black light-tight box and would reflect a beam of light to a slit at the end, where the film was drawn by at a constant rate. The frequency response

I returned to Travis with the good news that I was now free to work with him. He explained thoroughly how I was to analyze the records and checked me out on it to his satisfaction. He also suggested that I begin reading the relevant literature, which would be found across the street in the medical school library, starting with John Fulton’s 1926 book, Muscular Contraction and the Reflex Control of Movement.

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This proved to be a gold mine for me and led into much journal literature, especially the work of the Sherrington School of Oxford and that of Edgar D. Adrian of Cambridge. Within a month or so, I had completed the rather tedious and detailed analyses. In the course of doing it and reading extensively in the literature, I had gotten several ideas. I took the analysis and my ideas for extension of the problem to Travis. He was very pleased and said that’s great, go ahead with those additional studies. Instead of just the one procedure, there were now five, which included ascending and descending series, fatigue, and reflex and voluntary comparisons. The end result, in the Spring, was my thesis defended by oral examination, much as a Ph.D. exam, then a presentation in the Spring meeting of the Midwestern Psy- chological Association at the University of Chicago in a program which included Karl Lashley. Meeting him for the first time and hearing his presentation was a motivational boost for we all had become interested in and stimulated by his little book, Bruin Mechanisms and Intelligence (19291, especially his holistic view of brain function as expressed in his concepts of mass action and equipotentiality.

This first study of mine was published with Travis as the senior author (Travis & Lindsley: J. Exp. Psychol., 1931, 14, 359-381). It had turned up several interesting features, and one in particular seemed to have special relevance to a major concern of Travis at that time; namely, cerebral dominance and laterality differences in normals and stutterers. Briefly, it was that the action current frequencies increased linearly as a function of intensity of contraction up to a critical point thereafter decreasing. This point occurred earlier in the non-preferred hand, suggesting that the contralateral cerebral hemisphere was the non-dominant one, at least according to the prevailing cerebral dominance theory of Travis. This laterality feature then could be added to a variety of other tests used to determine the so-called “native” versus ‘ ‘acquired’ ’ cerebral dominance of stutterers and others.

This action current study of handedness in relation to stuttering was also published (Travis & Lind- sley: J. Exp. Psycho1.,1933, 16, 258-270). It was carried out while I was doing my Ph.D. study and was the basis for my second scientific paper presented at the September, 1932, meeting of the Amer-

ican Psychological Association held on the Cornell University campus at Ithaca. I had just had my final oral examination for the Ph.D. in mid-August and fortunately knew that upon my return, I would start an instructorship at the University of Illinois, so I was in high spirits.

Interestingly, Lashley was chairman of the Physiological Psychology session in which my paper was presented, and I was pleased with the result. As I indicated earlier, Travis had been a role model for me, and one of the things he did so well, I tried to emulate. He always gave his talks without reading them or referring to notes, and I was very impressed. I made up my mind that I would try to do the same and had done so successfully at the meeting in Chicago and now the one at Ithaca. This gave me the confidence to continue with that procedure, which I have always done unless I had some very detailed information or concepts that I could not present precisely except by reading such a portion from a text. This reminds me that years later at Brown University when Walter S. Hunter was Head of Psychology, I heard him give a fine talk without reading from a manuscript. I congratulated him upon this, and he laughed and said, “But it was not always so! The first talk I ever tried to give that way didn’t go well at all, and I felt miserable about it, so much so, that for years, I would never trust myself to try it again.”

I should mention here that the American Psycho- logical Association changed the time of its annual meeting from the post-Christmas period to August- September for the first time when the meeting was held in Toronto in 1931. The last post-Christmas APA meeting was held in Iowa City in 1930 and was the second one I had attended, the earlier one having been in 1928 at Columbia University when I was only a junior undergraduate at Wittenberg. I did not go to the Toronto meeting, because I was just retum- ing from a summer spent in Europe with a little five-piece jazz orchestra.

As a graduate student at Iowa, I had often played with this little group for fraternity and sorority dances on Friday or Saturday nights to help meet expenses and also provide a little social life without spending money on dates and so forth. In each of my second and third years I had a $500 Fellowship as a teaching assistant and research assistant, and my dinners were

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provided in the Psychopathic Hospital for taking care of the rat colony in the sub-basement beneath Travis’ laboratories.

In the Spring of 1931, an agent for the Holland- Amerika Line, while soliciting college students for summer travel, heard of our orchestra and invited us to play for our passage and accommodations on trips to and from Europe. We played for afternoon tea dancing on deck and evening dancing in tourist class. We went over in early June on the SS Rotterdam and returned in early September on the SS Nieuw Ams- terdam. While in Europe, we played in Paris, Baden Baden, and Rotterdam. An agency in Paris invited us to play all summer in Nice, but we declined as we

wanted to travel through France, Germany, Holland, and England. Three of the boys bought bicycles in Paris and rode to Germany, while two of us went by third-class train and took the instruments. I was one of the latter two who spent much of our time in cities visiting museums and the like. I took advantage of the opportunity to visit scientists in universities en route.

I knew that Herbert Jasper, a fellow graduate student at Iowa, who had taken his Ph.D. with Travis in 193 1, had just started an NRC Fellowship in the laboratory of Louis Lapicque of the University of Paris and was working there with Lapicque and Ali Monnier, so I went there to visit them. At that time, Lapicque’s theory of chronaxie was prominent, and I later referred to it in my doctoral thesis. Also, I knew that Floyd Ruth was at the Sorbonne on a similar Fellowship, so while visiting him I met the famous psychologist-psychophysiologist, Henri Pieron, known for his studies of attention, perception, sleep and circadian rhythms. I visited physiologists at the University of Heidelberg and Ebbecke, a physiologist at the University of Bonn, some of whose works I had read.

I don’t know how at that stage of my career I had the temerity to do it (perhaps I had learned it from association with Reymert), but anyway, since our little group was staying at an ancient and inexpensive hotel, The Hills House in London, adjacent to Kensington Gardens and not far from the University of London, I decided to try to visit A.V. Hill, a distinguished British physiologist. He was a member of the Royal Society and had shared the Nobel Award with Otto Meyerhof in 1922 for their work on

the chemistry and metabolism of muscle. He seemed willing to talk to me about his work. Of course, I could contribute nothing on the chemistry and oxygen consumption of muscle but at least I had done some work on electrophysiology of muscles, which seemed to interest him, and so I discussed a few of the more basic aspects of my doctoral thesis,“ Some neurophysiological sources of action current frequencies ’ ’ (Psychol. Monogr. 1933, 44, 33-80). He was, of course, familiar with Adrian’s work along somewhat similar lines. Also, at the University of London, I visited Charles E. Spearman, psychologist-statistician, who had been a contributor to the Wittenberg Symposium on Feelings and Emotions. In my courses at Iowa, I had learned about his two-factor theory of intelligence, and had read his 1927 book, The Abilities of Man. I was sorry that I did not have an opportunity to go to Cambridge and visit Professor E.D. Adrian, for it was he I hoped to work with if I was awarded a NRC Fellowship for the following year.

Returning to Iowa City in early September of 193 1, I had just a year to go to finish and defend my doctoral thesis, which was already well along. I had worked very hard during the first two years at Iowa, completing all of my required courses, including the major course in Systematic Psychology with Profes- sor Ruckmick, which included a good deal of history, and in which, in addition to other material, we had Professor Boring’s A History of Experimental Psychology, recently published in 1929. In addition, I had completed two studies with Travis, my Masters thesis, and another on handedness in stutterers, previously referred to, and two studies with R. Yorke Herren, on “Central and peripheral latencies in some tendon refrexes En the rat” (Amer. J. Physiol. 1931, 99, 167-171) and A note concerning cerebral dominance in the rat “ (J. Genet. Psychol., 1935, 41,489-472). During my third year, two more would be completed and eventually published, my doctoral thesis, and another with Herren and Travis on,” The effect of lesions in the central nervous system of the rat upon reflex time” (J. Comp. Neurol., 1936, 63, 241-249). Altogether that would be six publications as the result of my three years in graduate study at Iowa. The references to these studies, and in fact to my entire Bibliography of some 238 publications, my Vitae, and lists of doctoral and post-doctoral


students and visitors may be found in the Appen- pragmatist and saw in all aspects of life and educa- dices of a book published and dedicated to me tion an opportunity for psychology to make a contri- (Galbraith, Kietzman and Donchin, Eds., Neurophys- bution. This is well reflected in his Autobiography iology and Psychophysiology: Experimental and which appeared in the first volume of the “History of Clinical Applications. Hillsdale, New Jersey: Erl- Psychology in Autobiography, Clark University baum, 1988). Press, Carl Murchison, Editor, 1930.

R. Yorke Herren took his Ph.D. in physiological psychology under Travis and more or less at the same time his M.D. degree with the intention of becoming a neurosurgeon, which he did. It was under his aegis and the medical course in physiology that I learned to do some intricate animal neurosurgery and neurophysiology employed in my doctoral thesis. Among other things, this involved expo- sure of the two branches of the internal popliteal nerve as they enter the two heads of the gastrocne- mius muscle of the rat involved in the Achilles tendon reflex. Also exposing roots of the sciatic nerve plexus-inside the meningeal coverings of the spinal cord, particularly the sensory and motor roots of the third, fourth and fifth lumbar nerves. In this fashion, I was able, with fine silver-silver chloride hook electrodes, to record the input and output of the Achilles tendon reflex, and selectively stimulate or cut the various components in an effort to understand the possible sources of muscle action current frequencies as well as the nature of spinal reflex functioning. It was quite a task for a neophyte and something I don’t believe had been attempted before.

Seashore had his training at Yale when psychology was in the philosophy department and under the chairmanship of George Trumbull Ladd. Ladd was Seashore’s sponsor, but his Ph.D. experimental work was done under E.W. Scripture and his Ph.D. awarded in 1895. He stayed on at Yale two years as an assistant and then became an assistant professor in the Department of Philosophy at Iowa in 1897, where George W. Patrick was head and had established a Laboratory of Psychology in 1887-88. In 1902, Seashore became professor of psychology and from 1905-37 was head of psychology, and from 1908-36 dean of the Graduate College. These long- term administrations gave him much power and influence in developing the course psychology would take at Iowa and the integration of it in so many different areas.

Herren went on to residency training with neurosurgeons Tracy Putnam in Boston and William F. Van Wagenen at the University of Rochester. Van Wagenen and Herren were the first in the United States to report (Arch. Neurol. & Psychiat., 1940, 44, 740-759) on the surgical section of the corpus callosum in a series of epileptic patients to prevent the spread of seizure activity from one hemisphere to another. This was an important forerunner of the later “split brain” patients carefully and insightfully studied by Roger Sperry and his associates in the 1960s which, together with his extensive analysis of the capacities of his “split brain cats”, won for him a Nobel Award.

As I reflect on it now, I realize how fortunate I was to have had the opportunity to study psychology at the University of Iowa at the time that I did. Much of the credit for the breadth of the program belongs to Carl E. Seashore who, like William James, was a

Seashore was an innovator in experimental psychology and had much influence on the way it was taught at Iowa. He was an inventor of and designer of equipment, and with the aid of students and others, built numerous items to study audition, speech, voice, piano, and other instruments of music. For example, there was phonophotography apparatus for studying speech and voice, which enabled him to discover a unique element of voice in some professionals, which he called the vibrato, a sort of tremu- lous quality evident in some professional singers but not all. So far as I am aware, it was never completely identified with bodily tremors or with brain rhythms, yet was clearly present in the photographs and could be recognized by one trained to detect it. There was a piano camera to study the timing and accuracy of finger and hand movements. He developed the Seashore Measures of Musical Talent, a series of six, double-sided phonograph records for the testing of musical ability and diagnosing strengths and weal- nesses. The Eastman School of Music in Rochester collaborated in this and used the tests for many years to select and assist in the training of its students. An important pioneering effort was the Iowa pitch-range audiometer, long before commercial developers built

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and sold them, and before vacuum tubes and oscilla- tors were readily available. This device was used in our experimental course, where I first learned that I had a hearing loss in the high frequency range, which I have had all of my life since. Possibly, it came about from occasionally running a jackhammer in the stone quarry as a youth, where the high intensity noise and intense vibration may have shaken hair-cells off the basilar membrane in the high frequency region.

Seashore had a number of students working for Ph.D.s in the Psychology of Music, and one of them was Melvin S. Hattwick, Ph.D., 1934, who organized and arranged the music for our little five-piece dance orchestra, known as the Iowa Campus Aces. On one occasion, when the faculty and students were honoring Dean Seashore for his many accomplishments in the field of music, it was decided to have a musical evening in which a number of us would perform. This included singers, instrumentalists, a string quartet and our little jazz orchestra. Professor Ruckmick played the viola in the string quartet and looked somewhat askance at our jazz group. He was the master of ceremonies, and at the end of the evening he announced our group as “The Iowa Campus Aces, with a long-A” (meaning campus asses!). Nevertheless, we were roundly and loudly applauded and brought down the house!

A decade or so ago there was a temporary fad among some psychologists and an occasional article or note in the American Psychologist about Ph.D. lineage or genealogy. I recall that someone from SUNY, Stony Brook, called me and said,“We have one of your Ph.D.s in physiological psychology on our staff, we would like to know his Ph.D. lineage. Who did you take your Ph.D. with and so on?’ ’ I had never thought about it beyond Travis and Seashore, but said I would look into it and let him know, which I did. Many students had some physiological training under Travis, but there were several of us whose degrees were primarily in experimental physiological areas. These were, chronologically, R. Yorke Herren, 1930; Herbert H. Jasper, 193 1; Donald B. Lindsley, 1932; B. Kumar Bagchi, 1935; John R. Knott, 1938; Charles E. Henry, 1940, who started under Travis and finished under Knott when Travis left for USC; there was also John S. Stamm, 1950, under Travis at USC. For all of us under Travis the genealogy goes

all the way back to mid-19th century, and surprisingly, Wundt, the “founder” of physiological and experimental psychology.

Travis took his Ph.D. with Seashore in 1924; Seashore did his Ph.D. under E.W. Scripture at Yale in 1895; Scripture did his Ph.D. under Wilhelm Wundt at Leipzig in 1892; Wundt took his Ph.D. in philosophy at Tlbingen and his M.D. at Heidelberg, where for several years he was an assistant to Helmholtz in physiology and then an assistant professor himself. Going back still further, Helmholtz had studied under the then famous physiologist, Jo- hannes Miller in Berlin from 1838-42.

Travis, himself, had a remarkable career; in fact, three separate careers: University of Iowa, 1924-37; University of Southern California, 1937-64; Gradu- ate School of Psychology, Fuller Theological Semi- nary, Pasadena, 1965-75; and thereafter active in private practice and lecturing at Fuller until his death in 1987 at the age of 91. During his Iowa period, he sponsored 50 Ph.D. theses and had 93 publications. At USC, his professorial appointments were in Speech and Psychology, and his interests turned more to the clinical aspects of psychology and speech pathology. He sponsored 39 Ph.D.‘s at USC, and a dozen or more at Fuller, making his total well over 100. On his 80th birthday, many of his former students gathered to honor him. His life and career, his students, and publications are well documented in a festschrift volume entitled Psychologist Pro Tern: In Honor of Lee Edward Travis, D.F. Tweedie, Jr. and Paul W. Clement, Eds. Los Angeles: University of Southern California Press, 1976. His life went on full and active for 11 years thereafter.

Travis was an American pioneer in three fields of training and research at the University of Iowa in the 1920s and 30s. These were Clinical Psychology, Speech and Speech Pathology, and Physiological Psychology. Many of the people he trained in these areas became leaders in their respective fields in research, training, and administration. To name only a few of the many in the first two fields who attained prominence, there were in Clinical: George A. Kelly (Ohio State), Noble H. Kelley (U. Louisville and U. Southern Illinois) and Charles R. Strother (U. Wash- ington); in Speech: John W. Black (Ohio State), Grant Fairbanks (U. Illinois) and Elwood Murray (U. Denver) were especially notable in research and

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training; in Speech Pathology: Bryng Bryngelson (U. Minnesota), Wendell A. Johnson (U. Iowa), Herbert Koepp-Baker (Penn State) and Charles Van Riper (Western Michigan U.> all continued research and training and directed clinics.

Of the Ph.D.‘s in Physiological Psychology: R. Yorke Herren, as previously noted, added an M.D. degree and became a neurosurgeon in Portland, Ore- gon. Herbert H. Jasper, after a few years at Brown University and Bradley Hospital, where he trained several Ph.D.s, attained a D.es SC. degree at the University of Paris, and an M.D. degree at McGill University, and had a distinguished career in neurophysiology and electroencephalography. He worked closely with neurosurgeon, Wilder Penfield, Director of the Montreal Neurological Institute, and later at Montreal University. At Brown University, Jasper and Leonard Carmichael, then Head of Psychology at Brown, published (Science, 1935, 81, 51-53) the first American report on the human electroencephalogram. Donald B. Lindsley (this article) has had his main academic career at Brown, Northwest- em, and UCLA. B. Kumar Bagchi became Director of the EEG laboratories of the University of Michi- gan Hospitals in Ann Arbor. After Travis left Iowa in 1937, John R. Knott became his replacement in the Department of Psychology in the teaching of physiological psychology and became Director of the EEG Laboratories for the University Hospitals. He trained many physicians and psychologists in the use of the EEG in research and diagnostic work and directed a number of Ph.D. theses in physiological psychology, one of them being Charles E. Henry. After a stint in the Navy and a period at Western Reserve University Medical School, a position I had held before World War II, Henry became Director of EEG Laboratories at the Cleveland Clinic, and after retirement there, served as a Consultant in EEG at the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond. John Stamm, after his Ph.D. with Travis at USC, spent several years in research at California Institute of Technology, Yerkes Primate Laboratory in Orange Park, Florida, and the Institute of Living in Hartford, Connecticut, with Karl Pribram. After a period at Queens College, CUNY, he settled at SUNY, Stony Brook, as professor of physiological psychology.

graphic Society founded in 1947. Travis was an Honorary Member. Jasper, Lindsley and Knott were Charter Members, and Jasper, Knott, Henry and Lindsley were all elected to presidency of the Soci- ety. Only Knott, Lindsley, and Stamm maintained academic connection with departments of psychology and among them trained many physiological psychologists.

Travis was a pioneer in the use of electrophysiology in the research and training of psychologists, especially the electromyogram and the electroencephalogram. He and his many students put these techniques to use in studying the brain and behavior and also cognitive functions. The Psychopathic Hos- pital, where his laboratories were established from 1927-37, was built in 1915, and Dr. Samuel T. Orton, neurologist-neuropsychiatrist, became its first Director and remained until about 1928, when he became Director of the new Neurological Institute of Columbia University Medical School and Hospitals. It was Orton who introduced Travis to the concept of cerebral dominance and laterality, which Travis then adopted as a keynote in his research program with stutterers. The results of this program and the theory of stuttering he developed from it became a substantial part of his book on Speech Pathology, New York: Appleton, 193 1.

In about 1926, Orton had readily accepted Dean Seashore’s suggestion concerning the establishment of a Psychological Outpatient Clinic in the Psycho- pathic Hospital with Travis as its Director. Orton had been impressed with Travis’ research capabilities, and Travis, in turn, had been impressed with Orton’s articles on cerebral dominance and laterality in connection with disorders of reading and writing, especially two that had recently appeared. One was an extensive article on Word-blindness in school children in Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry 1925, 14, 581-615; another, ibid., 1926, 15, 763-775. In these, Orton had proposed a theory of mixed or unstable cerebral dominance to account for reading and writing problems in children and others, where mirroring of letters and words was part of the disorder. He introduced the term strephosymbolia to indicate the reversed perception of objects, letters, and words, thus leading to dyslexia and/or dysgraphia.

Jasper, Lindsley, Bagchi, Knott, and Henry were Travis was quick to see the implication of this all members of the American Electroencephalo- notion for stuttering long before he wrote his book

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on Speech Pathology in 1930. At Orton’s urging, he set about accumulating much data on stutterers and comparable normals with respect to handedness, eye- dness, and a variety of other laterality manifesta- tions. Many college age stutterers, as well as children, began to flock to the Speech Pathology Clinic, where, after a certain amount of data had been collected through interviews and questionnaires on laterality of usage in unimanual functions, mirror tracing and writing tests, ocular dominance and so forth, they were sent to Travis’ laboratory for electromyographic and other physiological tests. The EMG became a very useful tool to study the timing of innervation to bilaterally paired muscles involved in the speech process. It was argued, that in order for such muscles to work properly in the dynamic flow of speech, a very perfect timing of impulses to such muscles was necessary. In stutterers, where a definite cerebral dominance seemed not to have been established, it was assumed, and experimentally demonstrated in some cases, that the central integration of motor control could momentarily deteriorate, especially under conditions of emotionality. Thus, a neurological instability, such as a lack of cerebral dominance by one hemisphere over the other (either genetically inherited or acquired through conditioning) could lead to disorder of motor functioning, as in stuttering or general clumsiness, and to reversals in perceptual processing of information, as in reading and writing.

Orton left Iowa for New York a year or two before I arrived in 1929. However, I soon became acquainted with his above-cited articles and followed with interest the many studies Travis’ students were doing on laterality and cerebral dominance. In fact, in my last year, Herren and I did an interesting little study on cerebral dominance in the rat (J. Genet. Psychol. 1935, 47, 469-4721, which was delayed in publication, while we waited for the brains to be sectioned and stained, and also because we both had heavy schedules; I finishing my Ph.D. thesis and he his medical program. The idea of the study was to test Orton’s theory that perceptual memory engrams were stored as mirrored representations in the two hemispheres. We tested the “handedness” of rats reaching into a small bottle mouth in the floor of a cage for bread crumbs. Once this was established consistently for a group of rats, we trained them on a

multiple T-maze which led off to the left or right, and by flipping it over the correctly learned maze pattern, could then be tested as a mirrored image. After they had learned the maze in a given orientation, the dominant cerebral hemisphere, as deter- mined by “handedness” preference, was ablated and the rats allowed to learn the maze in the mirrored image. The hypothesis was that if indeed a mirrored image pattern had been stored in the non-dominant

hemisphere, the only one left to them after ablation of the dominant one, they should show a saving in learning the mirrored pattern. This did not happen, so the result was negative.

In 1935, when I was in New York for another purpose, I visited Orton in the Neurological Institute and gave him a reprint and told him about the study and its result. His reaction immediately was that he would not expect the theory to hold for animals below the sub-human primate level! Nevertheless, he was interested in the study, and I found him to be a very friendly and kindly person. I was always glad that I had made the effort to meet him. He and his residents and colleagues at the Neurological Institute continued to seek evidence from unilaterally brain- damaged patients and their pathology, and from children, that might support the theory. In 1937, ten years after he left Iowa, he published a book entitled, Reading, Writing and Speech Disorders of Children. New York: Norton, 1937. The currently flourishing Orton Society of New York was named in his honor, but one would scarcely know this from their meeting programs, which carry no mention of it other than the name!

There is much more to tell about my scientific activities at Iowa, but I have already gone on at too great a length. However, I would be remiss not to mention briefly one scientific association that was very important to me. In my second and third years, I was a member of a graduate scientific fraternity, Gamma Alpha, and lived in the house with about 30 other budding scientists. This fraternity was founded at Cornell University, some years before, and had been at Iowa for several years. It afforded me a very stimulating and beneficial experience. We all slept in double-deck beds in second and third floor dormito- ries, ate early breakfasts together, and were usually all together for dinner, after which all would depart for their labs or a library. There was, however,

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ample opportunity to talk with physicists, chemists, geologists, botanists, pharmacologists, mathemati- cians, and so forth. Don Dysinger and I were the only two psychologists at that time. It was a great group and for years after I kept in touch with many of them and was pleased to note their progress.

During my first two years of graduate study, I did not have dates very often as I had neither the time nor the money for it. However, I was occasionally invited by a sorority girl to one of their dances. I relied mainly on our orchestra’s engagements on weekend nights for my social life. I did attend the Congregational Church fairly regularly, and I soon began to be aware of a most attractive young lady in the choir. Her name was Ellen Ford, daughter of Professor Arthur Ford, but there never seemed to be an opportunity to meet her. Finally, in the Fall of 1930, I was taking a chemistry course in which there was a girl from the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority who knew her, as she was in the same group. She promised to arrange a meeting, which turned out to be an invitation to a Kappa dance my chemistry friend had arranged on behalf of my idol. That did it so far as I was concerned. She was a lovely girl, and the more I saw of her, the more I became convinced that I had perhaps found my future wife, but it was not quite that simple. She had previously been enam- ored of an Olympic high-hurdler who had participated in the 1928 Amsterdam games, but had graduated and was now traveling about the world as a newsman, and she infrequently heard from him. So either the infatuation wore off or I convinced her that I was the one! In the Fall of 1931, we became engaged and in August of 1933, after I had taught a year at the University of Illinois and paid off my debts ($200 to Wittenberg and $300 to Iowa), we were married and have been happily married ever since - now 62 years! She graduated in I931 with an A.B. degree in Theater Arts and had been a leading actress in several University plays. She taught En- glish and directed high school plays for two years at Creston, Iowa, while waiting for me to attain my degree and teach a year, thus completely vindicating myself from Dean Seashore’s caution against early marriage during graduate years. Her salary was $100 per month, but sometimes she wasn’t paid for several months due to farm loan foreclosures and bank closures, which were frequent in Iowa in those days.

But, somehow, we muddled through, raised a family of two boys and two girls, and now have six adult grandchildren, three boys and three girls, plus, as of 1995, four great grandchildren, three boys and a girl.

In the Fall of 1931, I wrote to Professor E.D. Adrian of Trinity College, Cambridge University

about the possibility of spending the year 1932-33 in his laboratory. He replied in long-hand that he would be happy to have me come. I then applied for a NRC Fellowship for that period. A reply came back that I must see Professor William J. Robbins, Head of Botany and Dean of the Graduate School at the University of Missouri, Columbia, for an interview. The question was how to get there. My old Model-T Ford Coupe, which carried three of us to New York and back after the musical trip to Europe, seemed a little weak and weary for the trip, so I decided to go by train. There were no buses those days, north-south roads in that area were not good, and there were no direct trains. I ended up taking three different lines, often waiting at some station a few hours for each train. Professor Robbins was a member of the National Academy of Sciences and serving on the NRC Fellowship advisory board. He turned out to be a splendid person, asked me to dinner with his wife at home and generally made the interview a pleasant one. I felt sure he was favorably disposed to my plans. However, I was informed in March that I had not been awarded a Fellowship. The secretary, who sent back my reprints and application materials overlooked Dr. Robbins’ letter about me, which had slipped in among the other things. So, I had his report, which was entirely favorable except for one thing, I didn’t yet have my degree, and there were so few Fellowships to be given, that Dr. Rob- bins felt I might wait for another year.

Now, I had the unhappy task of writing Professor Adrian that I could not come to his laboratory because the Fellowship was not awarded. He wrote a nice note saying he was sorry and that perhaps I could come another year. I had no job, and there seemed to be absolutely none available even as late as the first of August, 1932, about two weeks before my final Ph.D. oral exam. Then “Lindsley Luck” intervened! Dr. Reymert called from Mooseheart to tell me that he heard that Professor Herbert Woodrow, Head of Psychology at the University of Illinois in Urbana wanted a replacement for Professor Paul T.

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Young, who had suddenly decided to take his sabbatical leave for the year. Reymert suggested I call him at once and make an appointment to see him, which I did. On this trip, I drove the old Model-T Ford. Woodrow must have been favorably impressed, for he offered me the job as an instructor at $2,200, which seemed to me a godsend. I accepted immediately and joyfully drove back to Iowa City in high spirits and eager to take my final exam and defense of my thesis, which I passed with flying colors. I then prepared my talk for the American Psychologi- cal Association meeting at Ithaca, realizing that I would have to hurry back to start teaching at Illinois

the following week.

6. An instructor at Illinois (1932-33)

This was indeed a new experience. At Wittenberg there had been about 800- 1000 students in 1925-29; at Iowa about 8,000 from 1929-32; and at Illinois perhaps 14,000 or more. Whereas, at Wittenb-erg, I had 16 semester hours as a student, now, at Illinois, I had 16 semester hours as a teacher. Fortunately, half of it was laboratories in experimental psychology, which did not require much advance preparation. One of the courses I was asked to teach was Social Psychology, and I had never had a course in that subject, either as an undergraduate or graduate student. I quickly got all of the social psychology texts I could find and began to read rapidly. Among them Kimball Young’s Readings in Social Psychology,

Floyd H. Allport’s Social PsychoZogy (1924) and three by sociologists, Bogardus (19311, Folsom (193 1) and Krueger and Reckless (193 1). Allport’s provided a sound, behavioristic approach and was undoubtedly the best scientifically, but I chose Krueger and Reckless, because it was more recent and based some of my lectures on Allport. Unfortu- nately, Murphy and Murphy’s Experimental Social

Psychology did not appear until 1937! There were 75 students and the lectures were in a

theater-like classroom with lectern on the stage. This afforded me the opportunity to stage a “psychology of testimony” event by having a couple of graduate students rush in from opposite entries to the stage behind me, engage in a few brief epithets and sham fisticuffs and disappear. I pretended to be as sur-

prised as the students. Then, after recovering my equilibrium and quieting the class, I proposed that it would be interesting from the viewpoint of “testimony” if each student would write out in detail what they thought had transpired, including my own reactions after I turned around and saw what was happening. At the next class period, I reported some of the contrasting and contradictory testimony.

Another classroom demonstration had to do with the “power of suggestion.” I had found an old Jacoby sliding rheostat for varying the resistance in a circuit and then hooked it up to a large light bulb with a visible single wire element, which attained progressive incandescence as the current in the circuit increased when I slid the knob of the rheostat along its full-foot range. Presumably, also in the circuit was a large diameter, low-resistance, shiny copper wire, the exposed portion of which was en- closed in glass tubing for insulation. Several of each of boys and girls were asked to come up and hold the glass tube between thumb and forefinger and signal by raising the other hand when they first detected “heat” supposedly generated in the wire by increasing current as the light got brighter. However, the copper wire was not in the circuit, although it appeared to be. Curiously, the boys proved to be more suggestible than the girls!

Who were my colleagues and friends at Illinois during that 1932-33 year and what were their specialties? Herbert Woodrow was the Head and the only full professor at that time. He had done distinguished research on the transfer effects of training with instruction on learning and memory versus merely practice in the act of learning or memorizing things already learned. He also worked on the optimal duration of the foreperiod of warning on reaction time (J. Exp. Psychol.,l916, I, 23-29; ibid.,1932, 15, 357-379). Little did he know then that his hypothesis of a central neural factor in reaction time would later find substance and support in the electroencephalogram (EEG) as demonstrated by Lansing, Schwartz, and Lindsley (J. Exp. Psy- chol., 1959, 58, l-7). Nor could he have realized then that the discovery of the human EEG by Hans Berger (Arch. Psychiat. Nerve&r., 1929, 87, 527- 570) would be followed in the 1950s to 80s by technological developments (computers etc.) which would make it possible to study cortical event-re-

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lated potentials (ERPs), not only to the warning or alerting stimulus and the imperative response stimulus, but also to the intervening period between its negative potential shifts. These cortical-electrical changes have revealed information about orienting responses, “set”, anticipation, motor readiness, and cognitive content of the imperative stimulus and its after-effects.

The associate professors in the department were Elmer Culler, Glenn Higginson, and Paul T. Young, who I was temporarily replacing. Floyd Ruth and Walter McAllister were associates, a step then inter- mediate between assistant professor and instructor, but Ruth soon thereafter became an assistant professor. Robert R. “Bob” Sears and I were the two new instructors at the bottom of the ladder that year. Like me, Bob had just completed his Ph.D. in 1932 at Yale, and he brought with him his newly wed wife, Pauline “Pat” Snedden Sears, who had an M.A. from Teachers College Columbia, but who in 1939 would attain her Ph.D. in Psychology at Yale when Bob returned there after a four-year stay at Illinois. They became my good friends, and on one occasion when my fiancee, Ellen Ford, came to visit me, they entertained us in their home for dinner.

Culler had been primarily a psychometrics and psychophysicist type, but two fairly recent developments had apparently gotten him interested in physiological psychology and the development of a laboratory and a research program in auditory conditioning. One was the publication of two of Pavlov’s books in English translation (I. P. Pavlov: Condi- tioned Rejlexes, translated by Gleb V. Anrep, 1927; and Lectures on Conditioned Reflexes, translated by W. Horsley Gantt, 1928). The other was a study by E. Glen Wever and Charles W. Bray, Action currents in the auditory nerue in response to acoustical stimulation (Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci., 1930, 16, 344 350). This was a startling discovery at that time, because no one had previously done it, but even more so, because the words they spoke into the cat’s ear were heard in another room when the amplified nerve currents were led into a loudspeaker there. This suggested a telephone-frequency theory of hearing, but nerve fibers were known to have a limit under 1,000 cycles per second due to refractory phase. They then formulated a frequency-volley-impulse theory with multiple auditory nerve fibers shar-

ing the frequency load for high pitches. Unfortu- nately, it was later discovered that what they were recording from the cat’s auditory nerve was its own currents, over-ridden by volume conducted currents from cochlear microphonics, which had no latency as did the nerve more feeble currents. Nevertheless, it was exciting and soon led to a number of investiga-

tors getting into the act; however, the principal ones for some time were Hallowell Davis, A.J. Der- byshire, and S.S. Stevens at Harvard Medical School and Wever and Bray at Princeton.

Culler and his graduate students (Edward Girden, Glen Finch, Wilfrid Brogden, and others later) began a program in auditory conditioning in cats using both behavioral (e.g., paw lifting) and nerve potentials as response variables. The success of Culler’s work is reflected in the fact that in 1938, he was awarded the Warren Medal by the Society of Experimental Psy- chologists. Although I frequently visited his laboratory to keep abreast of their results, there was no opportunity to join this small group as space and facilities were limited. Consequently, I decided to do a visual discrimination study in rats in my third floor “office,” if it could be called that for it was up under the roof of a real fire-trap, ancient, building known as University Hall, the stair steps of which were worn hollow by years of traffic! My intent was to train rats on visual patterns, which were mirror- images of one another, and then after determining their dominant hemisphere by paw preference make lesions in the visual cortex of that hemisphere, very much as Lashley had done. I built the discrimination box and got the training finished, but by that time the 1933 Spring semester was over, so I never got to finish the study. It was a bit of a disappointment, but by then, I had other matters to attend to, such as finding a place to spend a Fellowship year and getting married in August.

In the Fall of 1932, while teaching at Illinois, I had again applied for a NRC Fellowship with the intent of working with Adrian in Cambridge, Eng- land, since he had said I might come the next year when I failed to get the Fellowship award in the Spring of 1932. To avoid the embarrassment I had felt the year before by getting his permission to come and then having to tell him I could not because of not getting the award, I decided to wait until I had it and then write to him. He had just shared the

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Nobel award in 1932 with Charles S. Sherrington for their separate studies of neuronal function. Unfortu- nately for me, he had also decided to remodel and enlarge his laboratory, which he shared with his collaborator, B. H. C. Matthews, and would have no spare space or equipment. His letters, always written in long-hand on St. Chad’s stationery in a very personal style, indicated genuine sympathy and em- pathy. I made another appeal to him, but he replied that he had searched his mind for possibilities but there just weren’t any, and it wouldn’t be fair to me to come and not have suitable space and equipment to work with.

Now, at last with the Fellowship in hand, I needed to make a decision fast as to where I would spend the coming year, and it was already late in June. I had the good fortune to be able to buy very reason- ably a Model-A Ford roadster with a “jump-seat” that a young man out of work wanted to sell, because he could no longer make the payments. It was a great advance in style and performance over the old Model-T’s I had in the past. After making three telephone calls to St. Louis, New Haven, and Boston, and successfully arranging interview dates, I left Iowa City in that neat little car for St. Louis, where I was to see Dr. George H. Bishop, an electrophysiol- ogist working in the Department of Ophthalmology of Washington University Medical School. I was familiar with, and admired, the work that he and psychologist, S. Howard Bartley, had been doing in recording from the visual pathways and cortex of the rabbit. It was pioneering work, and I knew Bartley from association at Midwestern Psychology Associa- tion meetings. Bishop said he would be happy to have me join them for the coming year, and I liked him and the setup he had, much of it built by himself.

Nevertheless, I felt I should have a look at the other two places I had in mind at Yale and Harvard. So I drove on to New Haven and was welcomed there by John F. Fulton, Head of the Physiology Department of Yale University Medical School. Connected with it was the Yale Institute of Human Relations, recently established in 1929 with provision for three cooperating Directors: Clark L. Hull, Mark May, and Walter L. Miles. Fulton, Robert M. Yerkes, and Carlyle Jacobsen worked closely at that time on primate cortical functions and behavior, but

Fulton wanted someone with experience in electrophysiology, and after talking with me at length during lunch on the top of a “little mountain” where he lived with his wife somewhere in the New Haven area, he urged me to come there. It was appealing, as had been the St. Louis opportunity, but I had made

up my mind that I would have a look at all three locations, so I travelled on to Boston and the Har- vard Medical School, where I visited Alexander Forbes, Hallowell Davis, and met Walter B. Cannon, Head of the Department of Physiology where they all worked. I realized that Boston then was one of the primary centers of electrophysiology, neurology, neurosurgery, psychiatry, and so forth, and of course there were other attractions of the Boston and Cam- bridge areas, and it was the hub of New England. Dr. Forbes was one of the world’s leaders in electrophysiology then, and Hallowell Davis was one of his proteges, with an active program on electrophysiology of audition. Both Forbes and Davis were enthusiastic about my coming there and invited me to do so.

Now I had three attractive options as to where to spend my forthcoming NRC Fellowship year. It was a difficult decision to make, but I think I made the right choice - Boston and Harvard Medical School and have never regretted it. I immediately wired Ellen of my decision and told her to go ahead with our wedding plans for August 16th, and headed back to Iowa City, stopping briefly in Brownhelm, Ohio to see my parents and share the good news of my decision and our impending marriage, to their surprise and delight. On my arrival in Iowa City, I found Ellen and her Mother busy with plans for the wedding to be held in the Ford family home, which was adjacent to the home of Dean and Mrs. Seashore. They were very supportive, especially since Ellen’s father had died in February of 1930, leaving heavy stress upon Ellen’s mother to run the household and see Ellen through the University. and with two younger sons in high school. The attractive and roomy home which Professor Ford had planned and had built was debt free, but unfortunately such family financial assets as he had been able to accumulate as a professor had been invested by the local bank in the Samuel Insull investment empire in Chicago and were wiped out with the stock market crash of October, 1929. Nevertheless, the wedding came off

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as planned and was a memorable event for both of us. The Seashores, Travises, and other faculty friends and neighbors of the Fords were present for the eight o’clock wedding and reception which followed. By ten o’clock, Ellen and I were on our way to the Hotel Roosevelt in Cedar Rapids. Our honeymoon trip to Boston included a two-day visit at the Chicago Worlds Fair, a stop in Ohio to visit my parents and relatives, then on to Chautauqua Lake, and along Route 17 of southern New York State to New York City. In New York, we enjoyed a couple of theatrical productions and an evening of dancing to Benny Goodman’s orchestra at the Four-hundred Club! Fi- nally, the little Model A Ford roadster carried us to Boston without mishap, but “broke’ ’ ! !

7. NRC fellow, Harvard Medical School (1933-35)

Fortunately, there was a check from the NRC waiting for me at the Department of Physiology, Harvard Medical School. Drs. Alexander Forbes and Hallowell Davis, with whom I was to work were still away on vacation, but had left word for Freddie Waite, a technician, to help us find an apartment, and Lovett Garceau, the electrical engineer to introduce me to my laboratory room and equipment. We soon found an apartment which was ideal for our stay. It was very close to the Medical School in an attractive neighborhood. A few blocks away was Mrs. Jack Gardener’s Museum and the Boston Fine Arts Museum. Our abode was what was then known in Boston as a one-room apartment. It had a tiny kitchen and breakfast nook, a living room into which a ‘ ‘Murphy bed” swung out of a closet, and a bathroom, all for $40 a month furnished! It was our first home and we loved it. Several months later when we had the courage to invite Dr. and Mrs. Forbes there one evening for dinner, which Ellen prepared, Mrs. Forbes, used to a big old house with servants on an estate in the Blue Hills of Milton, exclaimed, “And is this all there is?” She really meant no offense, it was just that the Forbeses were old blue-blooded Bostonians and New Englanders used to burgeoning old homes dating back to pre- revolutionary days. Although of some wealth, they were surely not ostentatious, and this was especially characteristic of Dr. Forbes.

When Drs. Forbes and Davis returned from their vacations, I discussed with them my plans for two studies. One involved the technique introduced by Adrian and Bronk in 1928 for isolating the response of a single motor unit in a muscle, that is, a group of muscle fibers innervated by a single neuron and responding as a unit to each nerve impulse originat- ing in the neuron’s cell body in the anterior horn of the spinal cord. This was done with a specially prepared hypodermic needle containing a fine insu- lated wire cemented into its lumen, so that in bev- elled cross section there was a single minute point of contact with muscle, which led to the grid of an amplifier, whereas the outer wall of the needle was connected to ground. In this way, each nerve impulse which activated the muscle fibers as a unit produced a single sharp spike-like potential. My plan was to study responses of such units in different human muscles over a range of intensities of contraction and during sustained contraction producing fatigue. The second problem to be carried out in cats and humans, involved recording both surface electromyograms (EMGs) and motor unit responses during elicitation of the knee jerk to determine whether the so-called brief “silent period” following the knee jerk response was a central neural inhibitory one. Forbes and Davis seemed impressed with my plans and my knowledge of the relevant literature and gave their assent and offered their assistance if, and when, needed.

I got busy at once with these studies in the room assigned to me. It was a rather forbidding room with everything including the window painted black. I learned from others that it had acquired the name, “black hole of Calcutta”, which indeed it was! There was a large concrete pillar in the center of the room upon which was mounted a Hindle string galvanometer with its large circular electromagnetic arms with the poles of the magnet separated by a centimeter. In that space was the vertically mounted fine quartz wire or string as it was called. Current from muscles or nerve amplified and passed through this string in the magnetic field causing the string to deflect slightly to right or left, depending upon whether the potential was positive or negative. The shadow of this string cast by a beam of focused light falling upon the slot of an electrocardiograph camera would trace upon moving 6 cm. bromide photo-

D.B. Lindsley/Internationl Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 105

graphic paper the spike or wave-like transients of nerve and or muscle potentials. Unfortunately, when the quartz string was taut enough to be sensitive to fluctuating currents, a sudden surge of current due to contact potentials all too frequently caused the string to break. Furthermore, even with amplification the motor unit responses were often too small. I de- spaired of these circumstances and predicted only failure in my efforts. I discussed this with Garceau who at once came up with a solution. He had built a portable six-stage transformer coupled amplifier for demonstrating nerve and muscle potentials at meetings and said I could use it together with a DuBois moving-iron, mirror oscillograph, something of the character of the Westinghouse oscillographs I had used at Iowa. Together, we coupled these units and tried them out also with the loud speaker and found that they performed beautifully. Now my spirits rose again, for I cou!d immediately see that the flexibility and portability of such equipment would be a boon to work I expected to do later with patients. For that purpose, I later built my own portable camera.

My research now moved ahead full speed, and by Spring, I had two studies ready for publication, which appeared in the American Journal of Physiol- ogy (Lindsley: 1934,1935). The quality of my motor unit responses were much better than any that Adrian had published in his little book, The Mechanism of Nervous Action, 1932. In fact, when Joseph Erlanger and Herbert S. Gasser published their book, Electri- cal Signs of Nervous Activity, 1937, the work their Nobel Award of 1944 was based upon, Gasser wrote and asked if they could reproduce one of my figures in my 1934 article since it illustrated so clearly the inhibitory “silent period”. This appears as their figure 111 on page 202, with an acknowledgement to me.

Drs. Forbes and Davis had been so pleased with my efforts even during the Fall that they recom- mended that I apply for a second year on the Fellow- ship. This I did and it was awarded after Madison Bentley, who had replaced Titchener as Sage Profes- sor of Psychology at Cornell, had paid me a visit, and after I had gone to New York to report on my activities to A.T. Poffenb-erger, then Professor and Head of Psychology at Columbia. Bentley and Pof- fenberger were both members of the NRC Fellow- ship Board at that time and both complimented me

on my work. Dr. Forbes suggested that I submit an abstract of the “silent period” work for the April meeting of the American Physiological Society in Detroit. When it was accepted for the program, he asked if Ellen and I would like to fly with him in his private plane, a Waco four-seat cabin plane, to De- troit. I knew that he was an excellent navigator both on the sea and in the air. He had taken a crew of Harvard students on a trip to the Caribbean Islands on his sailing vessel, the Black Duck, and also to the Mediterranean Sea. In his plane, he had flown extensively over Newfoundland mapping it photographi- cally by triangulation methods. Ellen and I were delighted of course, but a bit apprehensive as neither of us had ever flown before, and it seemed like quite a trip in those days now 60 years ago as there were few airports and facilities then except in large cities. Nevertheless, we opted to go and enjoyed an interesting and exciting journey. Our first stop out of Boston was a cow pasture-like field in Utica, New York, where, in a little airport shack, we had a bowl of clam chowder. We then flew up the Mohawk Valley, always keeping the river in sight, until fog stopped us for an overnight stay in Buffalo. The next day we came down in a real bumpy cow pasture near Erie; Dr. Forbes wanted to make some adjustment on the plane. Next it was Cleveland airport to refuel; then, flying low under the clouds to retain visibility we flew across the western end of Lake Erie to Detroit! On the return trip, Dr. Davis was with us as far as Ithaca, where we landed in a late Spring snowstorm on a little airport at the Ithaca end of Lake Cayuga. Because of the storm, Dr. Davis went on by overnight train to keep a speaking engagement. Finally after a day and night in Ithaca, we made it back to Boston safe and sound!

During my second year, I spent about two-thirds of my time at the Massachusetts General Hospital in downtown Boston, generally referred to as MGH. Dr. Stanley Cobb, neurologist-psychiatrist and Bullard Professor of Neuropathology at Harvard Medical School, had just been appointed Chief of the newly founded Department of Neuropsychiatry at MGH. I had attended some of his lectures in neuropathology at the Medical School and had visited him at the Boston City Hospital and gone on ward rounds with him occasionally during my first year, so that in this way and through his friend, Dr.

106 D.B. Lindsley/lnternationl Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141

Forbes, he knew of my EMG studies. He had done some with a string galvanometer at Johns Hopkins prior to World War I and felt that more should now be done with improved equipment. He invited me to establish a laboratory in his department at MGH, which I did. I attended neurology and psychiatry conferences and staff rounds and brought a great variety of patients to my little laboratory for study or took my portable equipment to the wards on occasion. It was a pioneering effort, and I was almost overwhelmed by the number and variety of patients neurologists, neurosurgeons, and psychiatrists wanted me to study with these new techniques. Dr. Cobb wanted me to study a young, adult female believed to have hysterical torticollis, or wry-neck. In her case, the chin had become fixed over the left shoulder and the Sterno-cleido-mastoid muscle of the opposite side, which had held the head in that position had become extremely rigid and painful. A polio patient whose upper arm biceps had atrophied to such an extent that it was about the diameter of a finger afforded opportunity to study the relatively few motor units remaining at near maximal limits of function and determine the frequency of unit firing.

Three times I worked in the operating room with a surgeon. Dr. Tracy Putnam, neurosurgeon, asked me to do preoperative testing electromyographically of a patient with dystonia musculorum deformans (athetosis) in whom there was constant writhing, twisting, and turning of all limbs and body, with considerable spasticity and rigidity. He believed that this could be relieved by section of the vestibulo-reticulo-spinal tracts high in the cord. I followed the EMG changes as he sectioned piecemeal these tracts, then followed the patient for weeks after two opera- tions, which did afford considerable relief. Another time, Dr. Davis and I set up our equipment prepara- tory to recording from the exposed auditory nerve in a case of severe tinnitus in which Dr. Tracy Putnam planned to severe the auditory branch of the 8th nerve. In still another instance, Dr. Rodman Irvine, ophthalmologic surgeon, permitted me to attempt recording motor units in the extraocular muscles when exposed for excision in the performance of an enucleation of the eyeball. These muscles have relatively few motor units and few muscle spindles, thus my interest in studying them.

Three publications of which I am proud came out

of this pioneering use of the electromyogram in neuromuscular disorders. One a general survey of a variety of cases (Lindsley: Arch. Neurol. & Psychiat., Chicago, 1936, 36,128-157), another a specific experimental study of myasthenia gravis (Lindsley: Brain, 1935, 58, 470~482), and one on myotonia congenital or Thomsen’s disease (Lindsley and Cur- nen: Arch. Neurol. & Psychiat.,Chicago, 1936, 35, 253-269).

Myasthenia gravis is a condition in which muscular activity begins normally then weakens rapidly until inability to perform, which of course is disas- trous when chewing and swallowing are involved, or for that matter most other postural and movement activities. With my EMG and single motor unit technique, and especially the latter, I was able to demonstrate that even in the most profound weakness-period, effort would send impulses down motor nerves in a regular rhythm, but they were apparently blocked at the neuromuscular junction, where it was hypothesized that acetylcholine, the putative neuro- transmitter in those days, was presumably destroyed too rapidly by blood esterase. A new drug, prostig- mine, an analogue of physostigmine, a curare antag- onist, had recently been reported in England to have a temporary beneficial effect upon the weakness of myasthenia gravis, and indeed I was able to show that it did restore the motor unit response after it had disappeared due to muscular effort.

In the case of myotonia congenital, a condition in which a patient could grasp your hand tightly in a handshake, but then had to slowly struggle to release his grasp, I was able to show by recording the myogram (muscle tension) and electromyogram, that the attempt to release a contraction was a step-wise affair. Each partial release, or lengthening of the muscle, was accompanied by a new burst of impulses into the muscle, thus stopping and holding the release as a plateau. This suggested perhaps, hypersensitive proprioceptive stretch receptors.

Putting this result together with a finding I re- called by Talaat, a Scandinavian worker, that a slight reduction in the calcium content of a perfusing fluid caused the toe pad receptors of a frog to become hypersensitive and discharge bursts of impulses even with weak stimulation, I thought just possibly my myotonia patient might be deficient in blood calcium. A test of this did not reveal a significant

D.B. Lindsley/Internationo[ Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 107

reduction in blood calcium. On the other hand, when calcium chloride was infused into the blood stream, the myogram and electromyogram showed a distinct shortening of time to relax a muscle. This was encouraging but only as an experimental demonstration of short duration. In an effort to prolong the effect, calcium gluconate was added to the diet but with no positive benefit, possibly due to the fact that ionizable calcium did not reach the hypothesized hypersensitive receptors. Nevertheless, the short-time experimental result remained a significant observation worthy of further follow-up. All of the injections of substances or feedings were approved and carried out by a physician neurologist, Dr. Robert S. Schwab, then a resident in neurology and neuropsychiatry.

The foregoing studies on myasthenia and myotonia began to convince me that I was really becoming a scientist, and that I could think and plan experiments that had significance both in a basic and an applied sense. Also, that I could derive from my experimentation hypotheses leading to an extension of the experiments into other problem areas. In this regard, I recall an interesting article I read in SCI- ENCE sometime in the 1930s by Niels Bohr, the great Danish experimental-theoretical physicist. De- spite his contributions to atomic theory, which won for him a Nobel Award in 1922, he maintained that his experimentation was not guided by theory so much as from the “hunches” from his last experiment! Presumably, when he had accomplished enough experimentation, the combined “hunches”, which had proved to be positive, provided a basis for his theories. I wish that more psychologists might have followed his example!

Various people at MGH and in Physiology at Harvard became interested in my electro-physiological studies and sought my collaboration. Here, I will mention only two examples. Dr. F.M. Anderson, a resident physician with famed thoracic surgeon, Churchill at MGH, wanted to know what effect removal of a diseased or damage lung (unilateral pneumonectomy) had upon the functioning of the internal and external intercostal muscles of the ribs during the expiration and inspiration phases of respiration. We studied this electromyographically in the cat before and after removal of one lung (Anderson and Lindsley: J. Lab & Clin. Med.,1935, 20, 623- 628).

Dr. Arturo Rosenblueth, a brilliant Mexican neurophysiologist, and long-time associate of Professor Cannon, became interested in the pharmacological aspect of my study on myasthenia gravis, so we studied various decurarizing substances and their effects upon transmission of neural impulses at the neuromuscular junction or synapse (Rosenblueth, Lindsley and Morison, Amer. J. Physiol., 1936, 115, 53-63). Dr. Robert S. Morison was then a post-doctoral M.D. in Anatomy and later engaged in important neurophysiological studies with Edward Dempsey in the early 1940s on electrical stimulation of the thalamus which produced recruiting responses in the cortex. Later, Morison became Medical Direc- tor of the Rockefeller Foundation and from about 1958 until his recent death, he and I were fellow Trustees of the Grass Foundation. Incidentally, it was this Foundation which, in cooperation with the Society for Neuroscience, established in 1978 the annual Donald B. Lindsley Prize in Behavioral Neuroscience for the best Ph.D. thesis in that field. In the fifteen years since this Prize in Behavioral Neuroscience was initiated, there have been typically 30 or more-theses nominated annually, many of them absolutely first-rate, making the final decision of a winner often difficult. Many of the winners, as well as runners-up, have gone on to further distinction in the field.

My time at Harvard was not all spent in the laboratory. I attended some lectures at the Medical School and staff presentations at Boston Psycho- pathic Hospital which was nearby. I also frequently visited the department of psychology at Harvard to visit my friend, S.S. “Smitty” Stevens, who had completed his Ph.D. under Boring in 1933 and occasionally attended seminars there in Emerson Hall. In this way,1 got to know Boring, Carroll Pratt, John Volkmann, Beebe-Centers, and others. I also attended a few seminars in Henry Murray’s Psycholog- ical Clinic, a block or so off Harvard Yard, where Ernest Haggard was completing his Ph.D. B.F. Skin- ner, who had finished his Ph.D. with Boring in 1931, but had done the work in Crozier’s physiology laboratory, had an NRC Fellowship for two years and then became a Harvard Fellow. I didn’t see much of him then, although he occasionally dropped in at the physiology department of the medical school on what he probably considered “slumming” trips, for

108 D.B. Lindsley/lnternational Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) B-141

he apparently was gradually becoming disenchanted with physiology and what was in the “black box.” On the other hand, Stevens was becoming more and more interested in the physiology of audition, and soon he and Hallowell Davis began to work on a book, Hearing, published in 1938.

Ellen and I occasionally travelled to Worcester, forty miles to the west of Boston, where I attended Hudson Hoagland’s seminars in physiology, as did most of the psychologists then at Clark such as Walter Hunter, Clarence Graham, Edward H. Kemp, and Lorrin Riggs, the latter two being graduate students at the time. J. McV. Hunt, the other psychologist, who held an NRC Fellowship in 1933-34, was working at Worcester State Hospital on the nature and role of concept formation in schizophren- ics. He had taken his Ph.D. with Madison Bentley at Cornell in 1933, and it was through Bentley that we got acquainted. On some of these trips, Ellen and I stayed with Joe and Esther Hunt at their cottage on Lake Quinsigamond in Shrewsbury, a suburb of Worcester, and they came to Boston and stayed with us. It was the beginning of a long-time friendship, for we would meet again when we were both assistant professors at Brown University. Another long- term friendship was with “Eddie” Kemp. In 1936, when Leonard Carmichael, Head of Psychology at Brown University, moved to the University of Rochester, Walter S. Hunter was called from Clark University to take his place. He brought with him Clarence Graham, Raymond Willoughby, Edward Kemp, Lorrin Riggs and others who had been at Clark.

While I was in the Harvard laboratories of physiology in 1934, news came that Adrian and Matthews of Cambridge had confirmed Hans Berger’s discovery of the electroencephalogram (Brain, 1934, 57, 355-385). Curiously, although Berger had first published on this in the Archiv fir Psychiatric und Nervenkrankheiten, 1929, 87, 527-570, and before 1934 had published 10 other studies of the EEG, most of them in the same journal, almost no one seemed to be aware of his work until Adrian and Matthews confirmed it. It seems likely that most neurophysiologists had they been aware of Berger’s publications would have thought the alpha waves at about 10 per second and the beta waves of higher frequency some kind of artifacts as the main neural

phenomena they knew about were the spike potentials of nerve. At any rate, Frederic Gibbs and William Lennox, neurologists at Boston City Hospi- tal came to Davis to see what could be done about it. They were both interested in epilepsy and Berger had already published interesting records on epileptics. Davis had the necessary equipment available in his auditory lab and they began work at once on normals and epileptics in the room adjacent to my laboratory. I was an interested onlooker, and because I had good alpha waves, was one of their “normal” adult subjects.

Herbert Jasper, my fellow graduate student at Iowa, had returned from his two-year NRC Fellow- ship with Lapicque in Paris, where he had apparently first learned of Berger’s studies. He held a joint position in psychology at Brown University, where Leonard Carmichael was then Head, and at Bradley Hospital where he set up his laboratory. They too began in 1934 to study the Berger brain waves, and in 1935, had the first U.S. study in SCIENCE (Jasper & Carmichael: Science 1935, 81, 51-531, whereas the longer Harvard study (Gibbs, Davis & Lennox: Arch .Neurol. Psychiat., Chicago, 1935, 34, 1133- 1148) done at about the same time had a longer latency to publication. I occasionally visited Jasper so knew about his work and of course was a subject-participant in the Harvard study. Interest- ingly, psychologist Carl Pfaffmann, then a student at Brown, was one of Jasper’s subjects with a good alpha rhythm! The fact that I was well indoctrinated in the technique and procedure of brain waves was soon going to pay an important dividend for me, although I didn’t realize it at the time.

I was coming to the end of my two-year Fellow- ship at Harvard in August 1935. Through the Winter and Spring, I had begun to wonder where I might be in September. I had begun to assemble a list of places where I might write. I think 1 wrote about 40 letters to colleges and universities across the country, enclosing my brief vitae, sometimes to the chairman of psychology or physiology, or to the dean. I was gratified that most of them had the courtesy to answer, but the answer, in essence, was the same, “We would love to have a person with your training and experience but things are so bad we don’t know whether or not we will have our jobs.” This was indeed sad news! We were truly in the depths of the


depression. In the Spring, Ellen and I had been invited to New Haven for a Saturday night party of Yale psychologists at Don Marquis’ house, which included Dick Wendt, Hobart Mowrer, Neal Miller, Kenneth Spence, L.P. Herrington, John Wolfe, Dick Youtz, Shirley Spragg, Ted Ruth and others of the staff and graduate students and their spouses or friends. Jack Hilgard had left the year before for an assistant professorship at Stanford and similarly He- len Peak at Randolph-Macon. I thought that I might learn there about an opening somewhere, but no such luck. Everyone was scrambling for news of openings as was I!

To make matters worse, when we returned to Boston, I learned my father had become ill in Ohio, and it was up to me being the most knowledgeable about medical problems to get him into the Cleve- land Clinic. While I was there waiting for a diagnostic workup and prognosis, I took the opportunity to visit Roland Travis and Herbert Gumee, the two psychologists at Western Reserve University and inquire about a job. The answer was the same, we don’t know whether we will have our jobs; however, they did suggest seeing Dr. T. Wingate Todd, Head of Anatomy and Physical Anthropology, and Direc- tor of the Brush Foundation at the Medical School. The latter was one of several growth and development studies sponsored by the General Education Board of the Rockefeller Foundation during the late 1920s and 3Os, the others being at U.C. Berkeley, U. of Chicago, Harvard, and perhaps Minnesota, Columbia or Johns Hopkins. I found Dr. Todd at the Medical School and he was a most impressive figure; a tall, large, Scotsman with big bushy eyebrows, which turned up at the end like horns, and a brusk manner. He wore a long white coat with a gold corded rope tied around the waist with ends dangling in the manner of Aesculapius! I explained my mis- sion and got a quick response, “Why did you come to me? I have a psychologist.” (It was Dewey Anderson, younger brother of John Anderson, Direc- tor of the Institute of Child Welfare at the University of Minnesota). I told him the local psychologists suggested I see him.

I briefly explained to Todd what my background was and what I had been doing at Harvard and MGH. I also took the opportunity to mention the electroencephalogram and indicated that it might be

a useful adjunct in studying the growth and development of children since nothing systematic had been done yet with children. He was not familiar with it, although I thought I saw a glimmer of interest as I described it. He countered quickly with the question,“Do you know anything about the psychogalvanic reflex?” This took me by surprise, but I was able to answer that I had not worked with it but had made a review of the literature on it at Iowa. We were standing in the hall at the time, and he then asked me to come into his office and tell him about it. It was a large office. He seated me in a chair at some distance from his desk in the comer, which had an x-ray viewing device on it. He began to look at a stack of x-rays and told me to go ahead. When 1 thought he was too intent and perhaps not listening, I stopped talking. He turned around and said,“Yes, yes, go on.” I did until I had about exhausted my recollection about the literature. I had said that I thought someone in Mandel Sherman’s Orthogenic School at the University of Chicago had done a study of the PGR on children. I also said I thought I had enough knowledge about it to set it up and use it. At this point, he terminated the conference, saying that he really didn’t think he had use for another psychologist. I thanked him and left feeling somewhat dejected.

Fortunately, a fine young doctor had completed his examination of my father, had made a diagnosis of hypertensive heart, and gave a good prognosis, providing he remained at home and took the medicine he prescribed. This was good news, and I took my father home and then returned to Boston. On Har- vard department of physiology stationery I wrote a short note to Dr. Todd thanking him again for seeing me and saying I was sorry he had no position for me. I think in doing this I had partly in mind that he might just reconsider. Sure enough he did, and in less than 48 hours I had a telegram from him offering me a quite satisfactory position. At that point in my life, I think any kind of position would have satisfied me! So now, it was on to the next chapter in my life. I made a quick trip to Providence to get the design of amplifiers that Jasper and Howard An- drews, a young Ph.D. in Physics at Brown, had contrived to operate a Westinghouse Oscillograph. I had B.H.C. Matthews’ design for a preamplifier stage.


8. Western Reserve University and the Brush Foundation (1935-38)

Ellen and I ieft Boston in mid-August so as to have two weeks of vacation in Iowa City with her Mother and brothers. While there, I planned to have Paul Griffiths, Travis’ electronics technician, build two voltage and power amplifiers according to the design I had, modified somewhat by Griffiths to accommodate not only the EEG, but the EMG and certain autonomic measures I planned to use. Travis had given his assent to this, and on the way, I stopped and got Todd’s consent to my ordering them built. Within a month after I returned to Western Reserve, Griffiths had gotten this done and shipped them to me. In the meantime, I had arranged to order the two Westinghouse Oscillograph units, and the respiration, blood pressure and other physiological equipment I needed. The 8 X 10 X 7 ft subject room made of Celotex and completely shielded electrically by copper screening was put up in a comer of my fine large office-lab room. By night and day effort on my part, I had this all ready by November and began recording on all available subjects in the program ranging from 3 months to 16 years, plus some 54 adult subjects, both men and women, In- fants from birth to one year came in for testing and measurements of mental and physical growth at 3 month intervals, and from 1 to 6 years at 6 month intervals, and thereafter at yearly intervals. Thus, I kept very busy collecting data longitudinally and analyzing it.

By mid-summer of 1936, I had collected EEGs on over 100 different children and the 54 adults. I had made frequency and amplitude analyses of these as they accumulated and also studied the responses to visual and auditory stimulation. By the end of the summer, I submitted a preliminary report of this to Science which was accepted and published in the October 16th issue (Lindsley: Science 1936, 84, No. 2181, 3541, just one year after I had started, and the first such study reported anywhere in the world! On May 18, 1936, our first child, David Ford Lindsley, was born and immediately entered in the growth and development program. I followed his EEGs from 1 month to 21 years of age, the longest serial, longitudinal sequence ever studied and reported so far as I am aware (Lindsley: In: Hdbk. Physiol. /

Neurophsyiol, III, 1960, p.1574, J. Field, Ed.; also In: The Role of Pleasure in Behavior, R.G. Heath, Ed. 1964, p.9). A more complete and detailed analysis of EEGs of children and adults (Lindsley: J. Gen. Psycho1.,1938, 19, 285-306) and a three-year longitudinal series in children (Lindsley: 1939, 55, 197- 213) appeared later. Considerable effort was devoted to studying EEG, autonomic and behavioral reactions of adolescent children to discrete emotionally stimulating events, which could be pinpointed in time in two emotion-arousing films obtained from the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art (Fight Between Cobra and Mongoose, and a Salvador Dali film) and from conflictual situations causing response dilem- mas, which were adapted from A. R. Luria’s book, The Nature of Human Conjlict, 1932. Although reports were made at meetings, unfortunately, the data always in process of accumulation, never got published.

An ambitious and intensive study was planned and carried out in collaboration with Boris B. Ruben- stein, a neuroendocrinologist. It involved studying each of four medical student women through a six week period covering a complete menstrual cycle. It had three principal goals: 1. relationship of brain potentials to other physiological variables (Lindsley & Rubenstein: Proc. Sot. Exp. Biol.& Med., 1937, 35, 55%563), 2. relation between vaginal smears and body temperature (Rubenstein & Lindsley: Proc Sot. Exp. Biol. & Med., 1937, 35, 618-6191, and 3. recording electrically from the abdominal wall, and by intravaginal electrodes, the exact time of ovulation, when an ovarian follicle ruptures. Burr, an anatomist at Yale, had found in the rabbit that rup- ture of the follicle gave rise to a significant electrical potential. During each woman’s experimental period she took her rectal temperature and placed a vaginal smear on a microscope slide each day before getting out of bed. She came to the laboratory at 6:30 a.m. before breakfast and before medical classes began for EEG and physiological recordings during two basal metabolic rate tests. Rubenstein examined the daily smears by the Papanicolaou vaginal smear test to determine if ovulation was imminent. If so, she would have remained in the lab continuously under recording observation; if not, the day’s experiment was over. Unfortunately, in each case the Pap test revealed one day it was too early and the next day


too late! Ovulation had occurred during the past 24 hours. Therefore, this part of the study had to be abandoned in favor of a continuous two or three day observation period in a hospital-like environment. In goal 2 temperature was found to drop appreciably

prior to ovulation. For me, an important experimental opportunity

occurred as the result of a chance event. One day, Dr. Ariens-Kappers, a famous Dutch neuroanatomist came to visit Dr. Todd, who brought him with four or five people of the department to visit my laboratory, because he was interested in my EEG and autonomic nervous system measures. I was explaining a poster of records mounted on the wall of the recording room, when someone happened to mention that a man in the department could voluntarily erect the hairs on his arm, and a little discussion occurred of this normally involuntary reflex reaction due to fear, rage, or temperature change associated with shivering. As soon as possible, after Kappers departure, I sought out this man and eventually convinced him of becoming a collaborator on an intensive study of his unusual capacity for voluntary control. There followed numerous experiments in which he performed this feat for me while I recorded his brain waves (EEG), heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, and even electrical potentials from the smooth muscle at the base of each hair follicle. I also took motion pictures of his pupillary changes. All of these indicated a generalized sympathetic nervous system response when he responded to a signal to raise the hairs on his arm. So, putting it all together, I published an article on it with him as coauthor (Lindsley & Sassaman: J. Neurophysiol.,l938, I, 342-349). I made a movie of him raising the hairs on his arm, the pupillary change, and the records of the changes in the autonomic measures. I called it, “A Huir- Raising Experiment,” and for years the film was available for sale or rental at the Penn State Univer- sity Film Bureau.

I asked him how he did it. He said it was no different than flexing his arm. That it was a strictly voluntary effort, without straining, or attempting to recall a frightening experience or anything like that. The movie showed him calmly sitting relaxed with arms folded, then upon a signal from me the hairs on his arm slowly became erect, like the hairs on a cat’s back when confronted with a dog. He could also put

the hairs down upon command and even put them down when elicited reflexly by-stepping out of a hot shower into a cold winter breeze through an open window. He was a rather diffident and unusual fellow. A graduate of the University of Chicago, he knew and could read Egyptian hieroglyphics, but refused to go with a Field Museum group from Chicago who needed his services during a visit to Tutankhamen’s tomb in Egypt because immunization

was required. In a Physiology class at the University of Chicago, the venerable and crusty A.J. “Ajax” Carlson, a Swede with a Germanic accent, announced, “And today vee vi11 discuss the involuntary nervous system.” Deep into this subject, Carl- son mentioned that the arrectores pilorum smooth muscles at the base of hairs contract and cause the hairs to stand erect. He emphasized that these, innervated solely by the sympathetic system, are not under voluntary control. Immediately, Sassaman’s hand went up with a question, “Professor Carlson, did you say the pilomotors which elevate the hairs are not under voluntary control?” Carlson replied, “Yaas, dat’s faat I said!” Sassaman then asked if he might come forward and demonstrate something, and with Carlson’s assent, he went to the podium, held out his arm and raised the hairs to the amazement of Carlson and to the amusement of the class.

After I had established rapport with Sassaman, which took some doing, for he was engaged much of the time in putting together the hundreds of pieces of the ancient Shanudara skull found in India for Dr. Todd’s anthropological museum, I probed him about the origin of his unique ability. Like myself, he had worked as a youth for farmers in Pennsylvania, and on a very hot July day, had been pitching wheat on a wagon and was sweating profusely. He sat down in the shade of a shock of wheat while waiting for the next wagon. The gentle breeze caused goose flesh bumps on his arms, and he noted the hairs elevated slightly. Then, and thereafter, when this occurred, he became very perceptive and attempted to duplicate the feeling and overt effect, and gradually over time he found he was successful. Thus, by practice and learning or conditioning, it seems, he acquired the ability of voluntary control. Neal Miller, as one of the editors of a series of biofeedback books, asked me if they could reprint our article as one of several other examples of early biofeedback, so it appeared

112 D.B. Lindsley/lnternational Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141

as Chapter 3 in Biofeedback and Self-Control, Shapiro et al., Eds, 1972.

During the summers of 1935-38 at Western Re- serve, I usually had opportunity to teach in the department of psychology during summer sessions, thus retaining my interest in teaching and sharpening my abilities along that line. Fortunately, the courses I was asked to teach were physiological and/or child, both appropriate to my background experience and research. In the years that followed, these were often the courses, among others, that I taught. I have often thought that every psychologist should have had the experience of teaching child psychology, or develop- mental psychology, as it has come to be called. Not only because of parenthood, or the prospect of it, but for a better understanding of psychology per se. Almost every aspect of psychology - perception, learning, memory, language, thinking, problem solv- ing, concept formation, affectivity, emotion, motivation, action, personality, adjustment and so forth - has its origins in infancy and childhood. The relative simplicity of these functions early in life, the relative immaturity of the brain, neural and reaction systems physiologically and neuroanatomically, and the control of environment and experience, open channels of insight more difficult to pursue years later in adolescence and adulthood. Also, the use of comparative animal studies sheds further light on these matters. For a discussion of such factors and the presentation of evidence on developing brain and behavior in humans and animals, see my chapter on, The On- togeny of Pleasure: Neural and Behavioral Develop- ment, in The Role of Pleasure in Behavior, R.G. Heath, Ed., 1964, pp. 3-22.

When I was at Harvard, I think it was in the Spring of 1935, I gave a talk and a demonstration of motor unit responses from muscles at a Midwestern Psychological Association meeting at Purdue Uni- versity. I took my portable equipment with loud speaker and stuck a needle electrode deep in my deltoid shoulder muscle and lifted my arm laterally. As I did so, the loud speaker barked out loudly the staccato pop-pop-pop as each nerve impulse activated a single motor unit. It was a striking demonstration and the Chicago Tribune the next day head- lined it spectacularly as, “Harvard Doctor Makes Arm Muscle Talk.” Perhaps Professor Raymond H. Stetson, long-time professor and head of Psychology

at Oberlin College, had learned of this or read my publications. In any event, he had an interest in phonetics and the processes of speech and skilled movements and was beginning to study them by the electromyogram. He had James Snodgrass, a major in physics, build for him an elaborate amplifier-oscillograph unit for studying speech muscles. He called me in the Spring of 1936 while I was at Western Reserve and asked if I would come to Oberlin and demonstrate how I recorded motor units and give a talk. I did this using his equipment. There were a number of students among those present, and as I look back on it now, I realize that no doubt two of them might well have been Robert Galambos and Roger Sperry, both of whom later became distinguished biological psychologists. Both had taken A.B. degrees in biology at Oberlin and were then engaged in A.M. degrees, very possibly in psychology with Stetson or others, or at least courses in psychology, for they seemed to have become im- printed with a permanent interest in psychological problems and the neural basis of behavior. Galam- bos’ contributions were in the neurophysiology of hearing, learning and cognition; Sperry’s in discrimination, learning, consciousness, and the hemispheric differentiation of such functions, for which he received a Nobel Award in 198 1.

During the third and last year of my appointment (1937-38) with the Western Reserve growth and development program, our second child, Margaret, was born just a year and a half after David. She also became a subject of my EEG studies, but not to the same extent as David. In the Spring of 1938, Dr. Todd wished to renew my appointment, but I had two attractive offers, one at the Institute of Living, a psychiatric hospital in Hartford, Connecticut, and a joint appointment at Brown University in Provi- dence, Rhode Island and Bradley Hospital in East Providence. The latter offer was one for a position Herbert Jasper was just vacating in order to accept a position with neurosurgeon, Wilder Penfield, at the Montreal Neurological Institute and McGill Univer- sity. The position at Brown and Bradley Hospital appealed to me more for it kept me in contact with a university psychology department, and also afforded me opportunity to continue EEG research with children, but now with children having psychological, psychiatric and neurologic problems. Furthermore, it


again brought me into association with most of the group of psychologists I had met earlier at Clark University. Consequently, I accepted the Brown- Bradley position. I was to be an assistant professor at Brown, where the starting salary for that rank was $2,700, and on half-time I received $1,350; however, at the hospital, I was to receive enough more to bring the total to $3,000.

Those three years at Western Reserve had been very interesting and productive years for me, and I believe I made a substantial contribution to the program, which there, was necessarily heavily weighted on the anatomical and anthropometric measurement side, but the psychological testing side I believed to be rather unenlightened and only moderately productive, except in a standard measurement sense. Yet, so far as I know, in most of the programs of growth and development of that era, the vast amounts of measurement data collected were never fully analyzed, published and made broadly and generally available. An exception to this was the U.C. Berkeley program at the Institute of Child Welfare, under the director- ship of Harold Jones, which was more psychologi- cally oriented and staffed by such stalwarts as Nancy Bayley, Marjorie Honzik, Jean Macfarlane, Nathan Shock and others. Eventually, its name changed to Institute of Human Development, and some of its long-term longitudinal studies of intelligence and personality continue even now under Nancy Bayley, in retirement, and Dorothy Eichom, one of my Ph.D.s from Northwestern who is an Executive Officer. The longitudinal growth and development programs of the 1920s and 30s were greatly attenuated during World War II and some were discontinued. In general, among other benefits, not the least of which was advice and service to the parents with children on the programs, was the changing of the focus and name of child psychology courses and textbooks to child deuelopment, shifting the emphasis from anec- dotal descriptive material and static facts to the more dynamic life development aspects and experimentation. Even the names of the institutes changed, for example at Berkeley and Minnesota from Institutes of Child Welfare to Institutes of Human Develop- ment, and the Iowa Child Welfare Research Station to Institute of Child Behavior and Development. Today, there has been a tendency to extend the range of concern from merely childhood to a range from

prenatal or neonatal to senescence, now generally referred to as life span development.

In the early 1930s Lester Sontag, a pediatrician, interested Fels, a Philadelphia soap manufacturer, in supporting a growth and development study at Yel- low Springs, Ohio, partially linked with Antioch College, and called the Fels Research Institute, which still exists today. Pre-World War II psychological contributors on that program were Thomas Richards, M.A. Wenger, Joan Kalhom and Alfred Baldwin; post-war and later participants were John and Beat- rice Lacey, Jerome Kagan and Eliot Valenstein among others. Some time after the National Institutes of Health were founded in Bethesda, Maryland, in the early 195Os, there was established a separate institute called National Institute for Child Health and Development (NICHD) for the support of extra- mural and intramural research programs, which has grown steadily. From 1930-42, Myrtle McGraw was the psychological director in a Normal Child Devel- opment Study in Babies Hospital of the Columbia- Presbyterian Medical Center in New York. It was here that she did her famous study, published in book form entitled, Growth: A Study of Johnny and Jimmy, 1935. It was a study of identical twins emphasizing maturational readiness for learning, with one child started early in motor training, the other later. It was here that J. Roy Smith, a Ph.D. in Psychology from Clark University in 1935 began to study the EEG in newborn and young infants as well as some older children. Three of these studies published in the J. of Genetic Psychology (1938) nicely complimented and importantly extended the data downward in age. In the J. of Psychology (19391, he distinguished between occipital and pre-central alpha rhythms during the first two years, and in the same journal (1941), he added to my previous data on the frequency growth of alpha rhythms with age. Later, Smith studied medicine and became a lifetime plastic surgeon.)

9. Brown University, Bradley Hospital and war effort (1938-46)

In 1936, Leonard Carmichael, Head of Psychol- ogy at Brown University accepted a position at the University of Rochester as Head of Psychology and Dean of Arts and Sciences. He took with him Karl


U. Smith his Ph.D. student, then an instructor at Brown, and two of his graduate students, Charles Bridgman and William Kappauf, who then completed their Ph.Ds with him at Rochester. Carmichael planned and built new quarters for Psychology at Rochester of which he was very proud, and thereby, hangs an amusing little incident, which I shall relate facetiously as an aside. He wrote up a detailed description of the new facilities, including floor plans and all, and published it in the Journal of Experimen- tal Psychology, 1936, 19, 783-788. Unfortunately, it contained an embarrassing little fun pas. The electrical facilities he described as having direct and indirect current! The humor of this was apparent to those of us who knew him well as a very proud, slightly pompous, and precise individual. No depre- ciation of Professor Carmichael is intended in telling this story, for he was a distinguished and important psychologist. He had made important contributions to the embryology of behavior and in other areas. He was a member of the Society of Experimental Psy- chologists and the National Academy of Sciences. After a stay at Rochester, he became President of Tufts College and Director of the Laboratory of Sensory Psychology and Physiology (1938-52) and subsequently, Secretary of the Smithsonian Institu- tion (1953-64).

With Carmichael’s departure from Brown, Walter S. Hunter came from Clark University as Professor and Head of Brown’s Psychology Department. He brought with him Clarence H. Graham, Edward H. Kemp, Lorrin Riggs, and Raymond Willoughby, who was Hunter’s Associate Editor of Psychological Ab- stracts. Hunter was the Editor from 1926-46. J. McV. Hunt joined the group in 1936, I came in 1938, and Carl Pfaffmann, who took his Ph.D. with Lord Adrian in Cambridge, England, came in 1940. The academic lineup then was, Hunter, the sole professor and head, Graham and Harold Schlosberg, associate professors, Hunt, Kemp, Lindsley and Willoughby, assistant professors, and Riggs and Pfaffmann, instructors. A more illustrious group of biologically oriented psychologists it would have been hard to find in those days. Hunter had been President of APA in 1931 and was elected to the National Academy of Sciences in 1935. Eventually, Graham (1946), Lindsley (19521, Pfaffmann (1959) and Riggs (1961) would also be elected to the Na-

tional Academy of Sciences. Hunter became a Char- ter Member of the Society of Experimental Psychol- ogy (SEP) in 1929, when it was formally reorganized after Titchener’s death in 1927. Graham was elected to SEP in 1936, Schlosberg in 1937, Lindsley in 1942, Riggs in 1947, and Pfaffmann in 1949. Hunt was elected President of APA in 1952. Kemp, from 1942 on, devoted nearly a lifetime of service to various branches of the military. All in all it was quite a record for the members of such a department.

At Brown, my teaching assignments were in Child, Psychological Methods, and Tests, and Physiological Psychology. I also accommodated, or collaborated in, research by graduate students and faculty of Brown in my laboratories at Bradley Hospital, where I was director of psychological and neurophysiological work, including the EEG. I was also supervisor of the clinical psychology activities, in which I had initiated a pioneering intern-training program. The first two intern trainees were Margaret Henderson, from Randolph-Macon College and Margaret Kuenne, from Washington University in St. Louis. The first named soon became Margaret Henderson Rogers and continued her training at the University of North Carolina, then after five years of wartime work in statistics with NDRC, became a Vice Presi- dent in the N.W. Ayer & Son, New York-Phila- delphia based advertising agency. Margaret Kuenne did her Ph.D. at the University of Iowa, and after teaching awhile, married Han-y Harlow and joined him in numerous studies of infant primate development at the University of Wisconsin.

As a result of the intern-training venture, I became interested in looking forward to a stronger and broader-based training for clinical psychologists in universities. Don Marquis was just taking over the chairmanship of psychology at Yale and was also interested in this. So, we collaborated in bringing together in three meetings the following people, who were then leaders in clinical psychology: David Shakow at Worcester State Hospital, Camey Landis at New York Psychiatric Institute, Elaine Kinder at Letchworth Village in New Jersey, Edgar Doll at Vineland Training School in New Jersey, and James Quinter Holsopple, Chief Clinical Psychologist, New Jersey State Department of Institutions and Agen- cies. The goal was to establish a model program, soundly based in psychology, but with courses in

D.B. Lindsley/lnternational Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 115

anthropology, sociology, and economics, and an early year of internship in a medical setting to be concluded by a sort of residency program in a medical school hospital setting. We made some effort to interest the Rockefeller Foundation and the Macy Foundation in this, but by that time, the war was upon us and none of the foundations were interested in pursuing it, though the people we talked to about it thought it promising. I believe David Shakow at some later post-war time wrote up some of this program and published it. However, the post-war avalanche or training initiated in the Veterans Ad- ministration no doubt forestalled further consideration of it then, and David Shakow moved in at the newly established NIMH in Bethesda as Chief of the Laboratory and Psychological Clinic Center in 1954. Doll, Holsopple, and Kinder were approaching retirement age, Marquis had moved to a big reorganization job as head of psychology at Michigan, and I was too involved at Northwestern, and, subsequently, at UCLA to pursue it further.

The Emma Pendleton Bradley Home, as Bradley Hospital was then known, was a rather unique live-in hospital for children with nervous and mental disorders, ranging in age from 5 to 13, all of normal intelligence. There were few, if any, places in the U.S. quite like it. The closest would have been the Menninger Clinic for Children at Topeka, Kansas. There were also school-like clinics, functioning mainly on an outpatient basis, such as the Orthogenic School in Chicago, where Mandel Sherman and Bruno Bettelheim were in charge, the Merrill-Palmer School in Detroit, and the Bronner-Healy Clinic in Boston. Bradley Hospital was different. Children could remain there for study and treatment for three or four years, if necessary. Initially, about half of the 60 beds were occupied wi!h children labelled as behavior disorders, in which problem behavior in the home, the school, the community required controlled therapy in an institution, rather than on an outpatient basis. The other half was comprised of epileptics, cerebral palsy, and other neurological disorders. Dr. Charles Bradley, pediatrician psychiatrist, who was the Medical Director, had written a small book, Schizophrenia in Childhood (now often referred to as autism), and, so, several of the patients fell in this category.

This was indeed an interesting and challenging

research situation for me, and luckily for me, I was probably one of the few people who had the experi- ential background for it, since I had just recently completed studies of the EEG and autonomic functioning in a range of normal children at Western Reserve. In the five years Jasper had been there, he had made great progress as one of the leaders in the EEG field and working on psychological, physiological, and neurological correlates of the EEG. He had routinely recorded from the entire Bradley population of patients and published on behavioral problem children, but much of his work had been on adult neurological material also, especially epilepsy. It was this latter work, which attracted the neurosurgeon, Wilder Penfield, and led him to invite Jasper to join him at the Montreal Neurological Institute. He had, I believe, a $15,000 grant from the Rocke- feller Foundation to get started during the first three years of his pioneering in EEG, money which had certainly paid high dividends in his accomplishments. In a sense, he had left a dowry for me in two respects, his equipment, which after five years of use, badly needed a renewal, and in the file of EEG records he had taken during the most recent three year period, especially those of children in the behavior disorder category.

I made two proposals to Dr. Alan Gregg, then a distinguished Medical Director of the Rockefeller Foundation, and was awarded a $5,000 grant, partly to update and improve the equipment and extend its flexibility to include autonomic, as well as EEG measures. My research proposal had both general and specific features. The most immediate and general one was to continue the use of the EEG in an effort to make it more valuable as a diagnostic tool, to use it analytically as an evaluative tool in assess- ing psychotherapeutic and drug treatment (both in the adjustment of optimal dosage and effect), and the use of special physiological and autonomic measures, along with behavioral assessment measures to determine whether EEG abnormalities observed were associated with cause or effect. The second proposal was to do a “prospective” study of the EEG and behavior in behavior problem children. Excellent case histories were available for the usual “retro- spective” theorizing about potential causes of a disorder, but the important thing it seemed to me was what predictions could be made as to prognosis and


the future life and adjustment of these children with seemingly serious behavior disorders. This meant a

“prospective”, ongoing study of the same children over years.

It seemed to me that Bradley Hospital and the State of Rhode Island was the ideal place to under- take such a study. First of all, the State was probably little more than 50 by 40 miles in extent, and prior to World War II the population was relatively immo- bile, that is, they stayed pretty much in one place. Secondly, our social workers frequently made follow-up visits to the homes of discharged patients and were interested in doing this as part of an ongoing, projected program. Thirdly, I had the last three years of Jasper’s EEGs, which I had gone over and deter- mined to be technically satisfactory in comparison with the current records taken with improved apparatus. Many of these had been on the same patients repeatedly during a two or three year stay in the hospital, and I planned to bring in others who had been discharged for up to five years. Preliminarily, I had found that the same basic abnormalities persisted in the EEG records of those taken after an interval of 3 to 5 years. The questions which were in my mind then were what would have happened to the behavior and adjustment of children with behavior disorders 5, 10, or 15 years later after passing through adolescence to adulthood. It was often typical of pediatri- cians and even some child psychiatrists to tell parents that their children might grow out of it, and no doubt some would, but I was skeptical of this without treatment and even concerned that psychotherapy and other modes of treatment might not effect a change. My observations had partly led me to believe that the EEG and behavioral abnormalities might be based upon pathophysiological mechanisms of inherent or acquired nature, and I was uncertain as to whether such underlying functional mechanisms were causes or effects and whether,. or how, they might be changed or modified.

I was really enthusiastic and excited about the possibilities for research in this field, and during my first year there, with the assistance of Dr. Kathryn Cutts, a pediatric physician, who was volunteering her time, we had gotten out a study of behavior problem children. It compared normal children and a group of children who, for want of a better term, we called “constitutionally inferior.” Their background

inheritance was very devious, as was also their envi- ronmental histories, for they were either abandoned or orphaned children living more or less as pawns of society in the State Home and School. This study was published in the Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry (Lindsley and Cutts: 1940, 44, 1199- 1212).

In the summer of 1939, the “winds of war” in Europe seemed to be brewing up a storm, but as yet, few people seemed to be excited about it. Likewise, as I drove across the bridge at the northern tip of Narragansett Bay to teach my classes at Brown, it was common to see Japanese freighters at the dock loading scrap iron, but, of course, at that time, no one could have anticipated the probable purpose. I had submitted an abstract for a presentation at the APA meeting to be held jointly at Stanford and U.C. Berkeley. Ellen and I decided to make the trip by auto in a new Ford six-cylinder car, one of the relatively few of that type that Ford ever made. It was my vacation time in August, and, so, we drove to Iowa City and left our two young children, 3 and 1 l/2 with Ellen’s mother. We then took a route through the Black Hills of South Dakota, Yellow- stone National Park, and on to Seattle, then down the coast through the Redwoods to San Francisco and Stanford. Curiously, Clark Hull and his wife had apparently chosen the same route, for we ran into them several times en route, either where we had each stopped to view the scenery or stay overnight. It got to be almost a game to guess where we would meet next. Hull, as usual, was wearing his dark blue French tam and seemed very carefree. We developed a casual friendship before we reached our destina- tion. In Seattle, I looked up Roger Brown Loucks, a physiological psychologist, I knew, and he invited us to a party at his house that night and said the Hulls would be there also. In the course of the party, including graduate students and staff from U. of Washington, someone asked Hull about his book on Hypnosis and Suggestibility - An Experimental Ap- proach, 1933. Next, one of the graduate student girls, teasingly, asked if he would hypnotize her. Hull agreed and proceeded to do so. He had her perform some typical hypnotic suggestions, but then, surprisingly, when he gave the signal to come out of the trance, she did not. He tried again, to no avail! Now, he was a little apprehensive, and I think so

D.B. Lindsley/InternationaI Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 117

were the others. But at last she did come out amidst great hilariousness and applause!

The meetings at Stanford and Berkeley were a great success, but toward the end, all were shocked to learn via radio and newshawkers that Hitler’s Panzers and troops had invaded Poland! This was a sad note upon which to end the meeting. A more personal sadness came to us while at Berkeley, that my brother Kent Sherman had died of a heart attack. This, of course, saddened our return trip. Also, I began to ponder what an impending involvement of the U.S. in the War would do to my plans for the studies I had envisaged at Bradley Hospital. Well, our studies went on two more years with good success. Dr. Charles Henry, who had finished his Ph.D. with John Knott in June of 1940, came on at once to take up a two-year post-doctoral stay with me, and we worked very well together and completed a valuable study on the effects of drugs (Benzedrine, Phenobarbital, Dilantin) on behavior and the EEG in children with behavior disorders (Lindsley & Hem-y: Psychosomatic Medicine, 1942, 4, No.2, 140-149). Dilantin had just appeared in 1939 as a drug effective in the control of “psycho- motor seizures” and it was thought that it might be helpful in moderate dosage with hyperactive behavior problem children. Phenobarbital, had also been used for this purpose. Benzedrine sulphate had recently been put on the market by Smith, Kline, and French in Philadelphia, and Dr. Bradley had been selected as one of the first to use it with children at the Bradley Hospital. It had a curious paradoxical effect, toning down the hyperactive, aggressive behavior of some children and stepping up the activity of hypoactive, withdrawn, problem cases. Thus, our study was one of the first to evaluate it behaviorally and in terms of the EEG.

Sometime in 1940, before the U.S. had become involved in the war, preparations were being made along certain lines. One was in developing tests or indices of stressfulness and its effect upon performance. Samuel W. Femberger, experimental psychologist at the U. of Pennsylvania had become involved in this under the National Defense Research Committee, and a critical test case had arisen in the British Navy. The HMS Dido, a battleship operating out of Cairo, was patrolling the eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea, and one night, somewhere near

the island of Crete detected an apparently accidental signal flash from an Italian Navy vessel accompany- ing a flotilla of fishing boats carrying military personnel for an invasion of Crete. The Dido blasted the Navy vessel, and all night long cut back and forth among the fishing boats upsetting them. It then turned tail and headed back toward Cairo but was soon overtaken by German Stuka bombers and seri- ously damaged, one of its main batteries being blown overboard. It limped into Cairo and eventually ended up in the Norfolk, Virginia Navy yard for repairs.

Two of the HMS Dido’s sailors, both members of deck gun crews, had broken under battle stress. One remained at station but was trembling and cowering and completely ineffective, the other one left his station and ran below deck and hid. Femberger and NDRC officials thought this an ideal situation for testing the effectiveness of experts in different clinical and experimental areas to detect, by whatever means at their command, potential for stressful breakdown. About a dozen psychiatrists, neurologists and psychologists from Baltimore to Boston participated, and I was one of them. All of this was hush-hush, and actually classified as secret at the time. We were told nothing of what I have revealed above, only that they were five British sailors, and that one or more of them had broken down under stress and could we identify any stressful candidates among them. During the course of interviews or experimental procedures, we were asked not to discuss with them their role in the Navy or their experiences, and they had been instructed likewise. They were simply told that they had been chosen to undergo some experimental, physical, and mental examinations the U.S. Navy wished to try out as a battery for possible use later. They were merely marking time while their ship was being repaired and seemed to view it as a lark and opportunity to see something of the U.S. along the eastern seaboard. They all appeared to be healthy, hearty, physical specimens.

Each of us, as participants, were asked to write up a report on our examinations and tests and submit it to Femberger. We were not given any information about the sailors or the success of our results until six months later. Femberger wrote me then that I was the only one of the examiners (about 12 as I recall) who had identified the two who had broken


under stress of battle, and that he was amazed and greatly impressed that in my report, I had predicted almost exactly the kind of behavior which had occurred in the case of these two. In addition, I had identified a third man, not because of stress, but because his EEG while breathing 8 percent oxygen had revealed epileptic-like clues. He said this was very important information to have, since the man had expressed an interest in becoming an underwater swimmer, which would most certainly be negated! In addition to the EEG, I had recorded at the same time

autonomic measures (galvanic skin response, heart rate, respiration, and blood pressure) while undergo- ing hyperventilation, 8 percent oxygen, and a cold pressor test. I had also included psychological conflict and arousal tests, as well as a standard EEG during relaxed wakefulness. I made graphs of the results and the two identified represented extremes of hyper-reactivity and hypo-reactivity. Femberger added that, unfortunately, the NDRC had concluded that there were too few people trained in EEG and psychophysiological measurement at that time to make it a feasible approach with the masses of people likely be to evaluated. Also, the time and facilities required for such examinations might pre- clude it. Later, after the war had started, psychologist, William A. Hunt, and psychiatrist, Cecil Wit- son, developed a quickie, slam-bang, walk-through series of rather obnoxious questions to ask the masses of raw recruits as a screening device to identify bedwetters and other deviates for more intensive and professional interviews. The ACLU would no doubt have been horrified!

An unusual informal organization was started in about 1937 by a few “young Turks” who initially called themselves the Society of Experimenting Psy- chologists as a sort of contrasting parody on the older and more officious members of the Society of Experimental Psychologists (SEP). The four, who originally thought up and initiated the activities of this group, were I believe, S.S. “Smitty” Stevens (Harvard), William A. “Bill” Hunt (Wheaton Col- lege), Frank Geldard (Virginia) and Don Marquis (Yale). The first “official” meeting was held in a hotel in New Britain, Connecticut. Thereafter, the meetings were usually held in an Annex of the Wiggins Inn in Northampton, Massachusetts. It was mainly limited to the Eastern Seaboard states. As

soon as word of the “organization” and especially its name got back to Boring, Carmichael, Langfeld, Hunter, and others of the SEP, all hell broke loose! They objected strongly to the implications of the name, which was duly changed to Psychological Round Table (PRT).

Attendance at PRT meetings was by invitation only, and one was invited back the following year only if one had actively participated by presentation or discussion the preceding year. Forty was the upper age limit. A small autocratic committee and chairman nominated at the last meeting arranged for and made up the invitational list for the next one and also decided who would be the next “Scrooge” for a comedy banquet address. The “Scrooge” usually managed a humorously scathing talk lambasting the work or activities of several people present, and on occasion, some SEP member. Everyone would arrive by late afternoon on Friday and start socializing, usually getting well lit up before the evening was over. However, early the next morning after breakfast, there were serious scientific presentations and discussion all day on Saturday. Presentations were only of work in progress, punctuated by questions and discussions. This was serious business all day long while scientific ideas were batted around.

The hilarious and somewhat raucous banquet got underway Saturday night with the chairman serving as Master of Ceremonies and jocularly introducing the “Scrooge” who would then perform his duties. Later, there would be singing with Frank Geldard or Douglas McGregor playing the piano. McGregor, incidentally, was a pioneering psychologist in the field of industrial relations at MIT from 1937-68 after which he became President of Antioch College.

I remember distinctly an occasion when five of us from Brown were returning by auto from a PRT meeting in Northampton on Sunday, December 7, 1941, and had stopped in Willimantic, Connecticut for coffee and something to eat. The startling event we heard on the restaurant radio was that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor with devastating effects. The members of our group then were Graham, Riggs, Schlosberg, Pfaffmann, and myself. Carl Pfaffmann was a member of the Naval Reserve and was sure he would soon be called into service, and he was. Each of the rest of us had already had some research connection with the National Defense Research

D.B. Lindsley/Internationa/ Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 119

Committee under the Office of Scientific Research and Development (OSRD), so, we too were apprehensive as to what might happen next. We didn’t have to wait long as the next day, December 8th, the U.S. declared war on Japan, and on December 1 Ith upon Germany and Italy, who had already declared war on the U.S.

Three months before this, in early September, I had attended the APA meeting on the Northwestern campus in Evanston, Illinois and had been approached by John Flanagan, who had recently become Chief of the Psychology Branch, Medical Divi- sion, of the Army Air Corps, as to whether I would accept a Major’s rank in charge of a research group to be established at Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. A few days later, I received a letter, dated September 4, 1941, from Major Harry G. Armstrong (soon to become General Armstrong), inquiring if I would come in as a civilian or as an officer. To both Flanagan and Armstrong, I replied that I just could not do it at that time, for I had teaching commitments immediately at Brown and other obligations at Bradley Hospital; also, my wife was pregnant with our third child, Robert, expected in February. Later, they induced Arthur W. Melton to accept the task at Randolph Field. A year from our December 7th experience, I would be committed to a wartime role as Civilian Director of a Radar Opera- tor Research and Training Project in the Army’s Southern Signal Corps School in Hobe Sound, Florida, leaving my wife and children alone in Rhode Island for several months until they could join me in May of 1943.

The Radar Project had been requested by the Navy Bureau of Ships and the Army Signal Corps. Dr. Don Lewis, an experimental psychologist from the University of Iowa, then with the Operational Research Group of the Army Signal Corps, was stationed in the Pentagon in Washington, and was of great help to me in organizing and locating the project in the Southern Signal Corps School, and later in the Boca Raton Army Air Corps Base in Boca Raton, Florida. I soon had about 20 psychologists and several supporting staff in a two-story building adjacent to a similar building housing the Commanding Officer of the Post, where Colonel Green could keep a watchful eye on the activities of these strange and curious civilians!

Among the psychologists involved in the project were, Karl U. Smith and Charles Bridgman from the U. of Rochester, Fred McKinney, William Lichte, and Robert S. Daniel from the U. of Missouri, John G. Darley, U. of Minnesota, George Horton, U. of Washington, Irving Anderson, U. of Michigan, Robert Dreher and Raymond Stone, U. of Indiana, Alfred Baldwin, Fels Research Institute and Antioch College, Garth Thomas, Harvard, Edward R. Jerome, Columbia and a few others. During the last half of the three year period, Smith was selected to direct his own project on B-29 gunnery at Laredo, Texas. Both projects came under the mandate of the Ap- plied Psychology Panel of the National Defense Re- search Committee (NDRC), an arm of the Office of Scientific Research and Development (OSRD) headed by Vannevar Bush. Walter S. Hunter was chairman of the Applied Psychology Panel, and his associates were Charles Bray, Dael Wolfle, and John Kennedy. The contract for my project was held by Yale University, and the nearest Yale representative was Karl S. Lashley, Director of the Yerkes Labora- tories of Primate Biology then at Orange Park, Florida. Consequently, I made occasional visits to discuss the financial aspects of the project with Lashley and his Associate Director, Hem-y Nissen, to whom he turned over all financial management. I also made numerous visits to the Pentagon and Radi- ation Laboratories at MIT to discuss the latest radars and radar trainers, which we were to evaluate from the human factors aspect. Thus, our project and numerous others introduced many psychologists to the then budding human factors and human engineering areas, which would bloom and flourish in the post-war era.

For most of us coming out of the so-called “ivory towers” atmosphere of leisurely research in the universities, we had to learn a new “quick and dirty” approach in experimentation for the answers to problems which were wanted almost tomorrow not several months later. Yet, we quickly adjusted quite successfully to these new and challenging demands and circumstances of field as well as base laboratory studies. We worked with all branches of the military services where radar was involved, including Army, Navy, Marines, Air Corps, and even submariners at New London, Connecticut. Several types of radar were involved such as the A-scope used in the

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long-range early warning SC-270-71s. It was this type on duty at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, but very probably the operators saw so many signals on their scopes, that they thought something was wrong with the radar, or they were reluctant to alert officers who on the preceding Saturday night had been partying! Other types were the B-scan used in antisubmarine detection flights off the Atlantic Coast, some of which I made with pilots out of Miami. A third type was the shipboard or anti-aircraft Planned Position Indicator (PPI), which provided a 360” dynamic map of surrounding areas.

Our base group studied radar operation and developed selection tests, training methods, and training evaluation procedures. They also did studies of the visual characteristics of the various radar screens to determine the most effective ones. In many instances field studies were done at the various military training centers along the East Coast and some on the West Coast. I usually made the initial contacts for these studies, meeting first with the Commanding Officer, often a General or Admiral, and then the Radar Officers. Sometimes a project member accompanied me and stayed on to do a particular study. In one case, Alfred Baldwin accompanied me to the Victorville, California Air Force Base (now Edwards Air Force Base), where he stayed on to do a major study of bombing accuracy by radar-bombardiers. I flew out of that base on several bomb-training missions in B-17s and B-24s. making movies of a repeater radar scope for use in a ground-based mockup of the radar set and a movie-projector trainer which Robert Daniel built. The idea was to give them more of an idea what they would see when they later flew actual, expensive missions. I had flown out of Langley Field, Norfolk, Virginia, making similar movies along the Appalachian terrain from Asheville, North Carolina, to targets such as the George Washington Bridge in New York. The western ones had included as targets the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, the Fontana Steel Mills east of Los Angeles, and numerous others. Flying out of Denver, my movies illustrated moun- tainous terrain such as might be observed in Japan.

Germany surrendered May 7, 1945, and Japan on August 15th. Thereafter, my project personnel quickly dispersed and returned to their Fall teaching obligations, but I had to stay on for a few months to

close out my project, returning in late November to pick up my teaching and Bradley Hospital obligations during the first half of 1946. It was during this period that I was offered a Professorship at North- western University, which I accepted, remaining for the next five years. I was very reluctant to leave the atmosphere of Brown and Bradley Hospital, for I had been very happy there, and was enjoying my research opportunities at Bradley Hospital, where I had completed several studies, including an extensive review of Electroencephalography, covering the period from 1929-1944, in J. McV. Hunt’s Personal- ity and the Behavior Disorders, Vol. II, 1944, pp. 1033-l 103. The offer at Northwestern was for $7,000, over twice as much as I had received from Brown and Bradley before the war, and advanced me two steps in rank to full professor. Thus, I never was an Associate Professor, which I might well have become if I had remained at Brown during the war. Hunt was promoted to that rank during my absence. Another inducement at Northwestern was the option of building a two-story, four bedroom, brick house around the perimeter of their golf course for $16,000, an option which appealed to us and which we took up, but as it turned out, the Office of Price Adminis- tration (OPA), which had held prices down, was discontinued, and the prices of the homes doubled, which we felt we could not afford on my salary.

10. Northwestern University (1946-W

Psychology at Northwestern expanded rapidly after World War II. Robert H. Seashore, the son of Carl E. Seashore at Iowa, was professor and chairman, William A. Hunt and I came as professors in 1946, A. R. Gilliland had been a professor there since 1924. Thomas W. Richards came as a professor in 1947. The associate professors were Claude E. Buxton, Edward L. Clark, and Albert C. Van Dusen; the assistant professors were Frank J. Dudek, Carl P. Duncan, Robert L. French, Robert W. Kleemeir, and Benton J. Underwood. Irwin A. Berg came as an associate professor in 1948. Thus, like his father, Robert Seashore was attempting to build a broad- based department with strength being added in experimental, physiological, clinical, child, social, industrial, and counseling. Buxton, Duncan, and Un-

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derwood enhanced the experimental area, Hunt and Richards the clinical program, French and Richards the social area, Berg, Kleemeir and Van Dusen the counseling and industrial-personnel area. Professor Gilliland’s specialties were infancy and childhood, personality and social. Dudek and Clark added strength in the areas of methods and statistics. At undergraduate levels, I taught physiological, child, and psychology of the physically handicapped child; at graduate levels I had seminars in physiological and psychophysiology, which varied each year, and I also participated in group taught programs.

In research, I had three areas of operation. First, was the adult human laboratory I set up in what had been a big chemistry laboratory room on the third floor of Fairweather Hall, a building vacated by chemistry and taken over by psychology, philosophy, and art. This was an EEG laboratory, plus various autonomic functions, where most of my graduate students got their first introduction into physiological measurement, and some of them did their theses. Some, however, found it expedient to collect their data at outside laboratories, where special subjects could be found, such as the Mooseheart Laboratories and Chester Darrow’s laboratory in the Institute of Juvenile Research in downtown Chicago. Secondly, I and some of my graduate students studying the EEG in newborn and young infants worked at The Cradle Society’s special hospital in Evanston, a nationally known adoption center. I also did some work at the Evanston hospital recording EEGs on Rh-negative women and their offspring whose second, third, or fourth child manifested jaundice and early symptoms of kemicterus, i.e., subcortical brain deterioration. In each of these two instances, my equipment had to be transported to these locations.

My third area of research was with Dr. H. W. Magoun, professor of neuroanatomy and neurophysiology in the Northwestern University Medical School in downtown Chicago. Dr. Magoun had taken his Ph.D. in 1934 with the famous neuroanatomist and neurologist, Stephen Walter Ranson and continued collaborating with him until his death in 1942. They, and others who worked with Ranson, were the first in the U.S. to use extensively the Horsley-Clarke stereotaxic instrument to study by stimulation and lesion methods the hypothalamus and brain stem. I had gotten to know Magoun prior to coming to

Northwestern, as we were both members of an informal group known as the “Physiological Neurolo- gists.” It was something like the PRT in that it was composed of young anatomists, physiologists, pharmacologists, neurologists, and psychologists, who typically attended meetings of the American Neuro- logical Association (ANA) held annually in Atlantic City but had become disenchanted with the way those meetings were conducted by prima donnas. That is, a speaker and two fixed discussants, who sometimes literally presented papers of their own, rather than mere discussions, and left little or no time for others, especially younger investigators to question or discuss the work. As a consequence, from about 1938-42, before we all got involved in war work or wartime teaching, this little group of “young Turks” (no one above the rank of assistant professor) met the day before the ANA in a small hotel suite. Some of the members of that informal group were, Charles Aring, Frederic Gibbs, Houston Mer- ritt, and Robert Schwab, neurologists; David Bodian, H.W. Magoun, and Jerzy Rose, neuroanatomists; Hebel and Ebbe Hoff, Warren McCulloch, Leslie Nims, and Clinton Woolsey, neurophysiologists; Harry Harlow, Donald Lindsley, Donald Marquis, and Richard Wendt, psychologists, and perhaps a dozen more. Like the PRT, it proved to be a valuable source of discussion and acquaintance with other contemporaries, and, in this case, interdisciplinary.

During my first year at Northwestern, I renewed acquaintance with Magoun and found that we had a number of common interests in research where the areas of expertise of each complemented the other. Magoun, at that time, was an expert in the neuroanatomy and neurophysiology of the brain stem and hypothalamus; whereas my experience had been largely in electrophysiology, especially with the electroencephalogram and electromyogram, both of which would be put to use in our subsequent studies. We both had interests in how the nervous system mediates behavior and the psychological aspects of emotion, arousal, sleep-wakefulness, states of consciousness, and so forth.

I had brought with me from Bradley Hospital some amplifying and recording equipment which we installed in Magoun’s laboratory. Our first published studies had mainly to do with the descending influences of the brain stem reticular formation and re-

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lated structures, which are involved in spasticity, rigidity, and tremors. Following some cues from Ranson and Magoun’s earlier work, we began to think in terms of possible ascending influences of the reticular activating system. At about this time, Giuseppe Moruzzi, a distinguished neurophysiologist from the University of Pisa, arrived for a year at Northwestern Medical School. He was, of course, interested in our plans, and his background fitted nicely into the work envisioned. Moruzzi and Magoun published the first study (EEG Cain. Neuro- physiol., 1949, 1, 455-4731, which demonstrated that electrical stimulation of the reticular formation in a lightly anesthetized or sleeping cat would arouse and awaken it and cause the EEG to shift from a typical slow-wave sleep pattern to an activated or desynchronized one, comprised of smaller faster waves typical of the waking state. This was a very exciting discovery, for it suggested that the ascending reticular activating system (ARAS), a central core structure of the brain stem, was a part of the mechanism involved in sleep-wakefulness, as well as anesthetic states, arousal, activation, and attention. Another study carried out at the same time by Linds- ley, Bowden and Magoun (EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 1949, 1, 475-486) more convincingly demonstrated that the effects noted above from stimulation were indeed due to the reticular formation, since blocking it by a lesion led to somnolence, whereas blocking only the classical sensory pathways lateral to it did not. Thus, the network of neurons comprising the reticular formation, which receive input from all sensory channels conveys this activating influence centralward to the thalamus and cortex. This, however, was an acute experiment, and we wanted to demonstrate the same effects in a chronic animal preparation without anesthesia. So, the third set of experiments was done by Lindsley, Schreiner, Knowles, and Magoun (EEG Clin. Neurophysiol., 1950, 2, 483-498), which showed that the effect of chronic rostra1 lesions of the ARAS induced chronic somnolence in cats, which persisted up to two months, which was as long as the animals were followed. Strong stimuli momentarily activated the EEG, and the cat would lift its head but immediately sink again into a comatose state. Chronic lesions of the sensory pathways at a rostra1 midbrain level had no such effect.

The results of these studies, coupled with later ones, led me to propose an “activation theory of emotion” (Lindsley, 195 11, and additionally, potential roles for the reticular activating system in other book chapters on motivation (1957), perception (1958, 1961) and attention, consciousness and sleep-wakefulness (1960). Magoun dealt with other neurophysiological integrations in a classic book entitled, The Waking Bruin, 1958, 1963. (Full references to these and other articles are provided at the end)

During my five years at Northwestern University, in addition to my full schedule of teaching, research and sponsoring eight Ph.D.s, I had also become an active participating member in several scientific and professional societies. I had become a member of the American Psychological Association in 1932, a Fel- low in 1937. My first APA paper had been at Ithaca in 1932, but, thereafter, I became a fairly regular participant, presenting a paper, chairing a session or doing committee duties during the annual meetings at New York (1934) Ann Arbor (19351, Hanover (1936), Minneapolis (1937), Stanford-Berkeley (1939), State College (1940), Evanston (1941) and New York (1942). There were no regular meetings during the war years, 1943-45.

In 1946, my first year at Northwestern, I attended the first post-war full meeting of APA at the Univer- sity of Pennsylvania. For APA, this was a memorable year to be able to meet once again, and for me, it was memorable in an additional way. We had packed our belongings in Rhode Island and sent them on the way to Evanston, and we were on our way by auto. I had taken movies of the family and our homestead and had a 50-foot roll of 16 mm colored film left. At the meeting, I began to see a number of the old guard, and the thought occurred to me why not take some movies of these distinguished psychologists as they are talking to one another. I did, and it turned out so well, that I took more at subsequent meetings realizing that “Like old Army Generals, old Psychologists retire, fade away and are soon forgotten.” As the film grew, I began to include younger ones of my generation thinking they might be the distinguished ones of the future, so that a number of prominent contemporary psychologists may be identified during their academic and professional adolescence. Unfortunately, too many of both


eras are now deceased, but the film I called, “Psy- chologists Here, There, and Everywhere,” helps to preserve images of some of the great ones of the past.

I showed the film several times at meetings, identifying people by name and location at the time, but, unfortunately, at silent speed, a sound track could not be put on it. I have recently had it done in video (Umatic 3/4 inch, and Beta and VHS l/2 inch tapes), personally doing the audio identification. The film and video tapes include nearly 40 APA past presidents and perhaps 300 or 400 other psychologists as of about 50-60 years ago!

The 1946 meeting was the first one after APA had been reorganized with initially 20 divisions. I was a member of Division 3, then known as Theoretical- Experimental Psychology and Division 6, Physio- logical and Comparative Psychology. The first four presidents of Division 6 were: D.G. Marquis (19461, D.B. Lindsley (1947), Clifford Morgan (1948) and Frank A. Beach (1949). At that time, Edward Tol- man suggested that because of the great overlap of membership in Division 3 and 6, the two divisions should merge as Division 3, Experimental Psychol- ogy, and have co-presidents, one representing the physiological-comparative group and one the experimental group. This was done only in 1950 when W.J. Brogden and B.F. Skinner were co-presidents. Thereafter, Division 3 had only one president, and Division 6 as an entity ceased to exist until 1963 when reconstituted de nouo with Sidney Weinstein as the first renewal president. For some reason thereafter, no one seemed to know or acknowledge that a Division 6 had been in existence from 1946-50 and had live presidents before Weinstein. However, the evidence exists, and I dug it out of the Psychological Bulletin of 1945, The American Psychologist of 1947-51, and the APA Yearbook of 1946-47! So much for the history of Divisions 3 and 6!

Immediately post-war, the military services became apprehensive that they were about to lose the services and advice of thousands of Civilian scientists through the dissolution of the Office of Scien- tific Research and Development and its National Defense Research Committee arm, as well as other wartime civilian agencies. Accordingly, they began to reconstitute advisory bodies. Some of them turned to the National Academy of Sciences and the NRC.

One such group was activated by the NRC at the request of the Office of Naval Research. The 10 scientists of the Committee on Undersea Warfare were mainly physicists and engineers, with an oceanographer, a physiologist, Eugene Dubois of Cornell Medical College, and a psychologist, Walter S. Hunter of Brown University. While most of their deliberations concerned physical and engineering strategies, they had become convinced during the war of the importance of the human factor and Hunter and Dubois emphasized this strongly. I was asked to become Chairman of a Panel on Psychology and Physiology of the CUW, comprised of experimental psychologists Francis W. Irwin (U. of Penn- sylvania), William E. Kappauf, Jr. (Princeton), John L. Kennedy (Tufts), S.S. Stevens (Harvard), and physiological-experimental psychologists, W. Dewey Neff (U. Of Chicago), D.B. Lindsley (Northwestern), Clifford T. Morgan (Johns Hopkins), and physiologist James D. Hardy (U. of Pennsylvania). All of us had been engaged in wartime services on research projects, which involved human factors and human engineering. We met at Johns Hopkins on July 8, 1947, and planned the book we were charged to prepare, selected the authors, and produced a highly regarded book entitled, Human Factors in Undersea Warfare, 1949. It was a pioneering effort in human factors and human engineering with both basic and applied contributions.

In 1951, I was asked by the NRC to replace Professor Hunter on the Undersea Warfare Commit- tee and served as a member of it until 1964, a total of 13 years. In 1947, I was asked by the U.S. Air Forces to become a member of its Scientific Advi- sory Board to the Chief of Staff, who at that time was General Carl Spaatz, followed by General Hoyt Vandenberg, both of whom frequently met with us. The Chairman of the Advisory Committee was the brilliant Hungarian, aeronautical engineer, Theodore von Karman. From 1948-49, I was Chairman of the Human Resources Professional Advisory Committee, U.S. Air Forces. It was also during this period at Northwestern that I began to take on responsibilities in APA: President, Division 6 (1947), representative to the NRC (1948-5 l), Member APA Program Committee (1948-51, Chmn. 1951), Member, Pro- gram Committee, Division 12 Clinical & Abnormal, Chairman, Standards and Training Committee

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(1948-51). All of these activities meant quite a bit of travelling and also late evening hours and week- ends. I recall that one year, I believe it was 1948, on a Wednesday, I taught two classes at Northwestern in Evanston in the morning, ate my lunch in the car on the way downtown to work with Magoun at the Medical School all afternoon, then starting at 6 p.m., taught two, two-hour courses in the evening division downtown without time for supper. I had nearly an hour drive back to Wilmette where we lived. I knew I had a full day! But even the mere pittance we were paid to teach evening courses seemed to be important to make ends meet with a family of six. I was also President of the Central Electroencephalo- graphic Society in 1949, a midwestem regional group. From 1942-5 1, I was a member of the Avia- tion Psychology Committee of the National Research Council - Civil Aeronautics Administration. From 1947-68, I was a Consulting Editor of the Journal of Experimental Psychology.

When occasionally I begged off from a day of research with Magoun to attend one of these meetings, he kidded me, “Are you going to consult with General Spaatz?” But, in 1950, on accepting the headship of anatomy in the new UCLA Medical School, he, too, became a very, very busy man on local, national, and international committees! I had taught at UCLA in the summer of 1950, was offered a position in psychology and the medical school, so once again joined him and others in 195 1.

11. UCLA: Psychology, medical school, Brain Re- search Institute (1951-77)

Accepting a position at UCLA in 1951 was somewhat of a gamble, both for general and specific reasons. However, to have stayed at Northwestern or to have gone elsewhere would have been a gamble as well, because of conditions and uncertainties which existed in the 1950s. As to the national and world picture, the U.S. and most other countries of the world were still in the throes of recovering from twenty or more years of world-wide economic depression. Additionally, World War II had imposed tremendous costs economically and in the lives of young men killed or damaged physically and mentally. Much of industry had been geared to war-time

production and required reconversion and renewal. Agriculture in the U.S., damaged by years of drought and financial troubles during the 193Os, and subsequent loss of manpower to the military, was in a sad state and needed money for retailing and mortgage support. Labor was clamoring for increased wages to combat the rapidly increasing inflation after relaxation of price controls by the Office of Price administration. Many of our friends, allies and former enemies in Europe, had been devastated by the rav- ages of war and needed help, for which the Truman administration had come up with the Truman Doc- trine and the Marshall Plan. Also, NATO, as a defense against the growing cold-war with the USSR, required strong U.S. support.

Despite all of these and other problems, conditions were slowly but surely beginning to improve and stabilize under the Truman and subsequent Eisenhower administrations. Immediately after the end of the war in 1945 and for some time to come, there was much shifting of jobs in academia and especially in psychology, which was burgeoning in uncertain ways, as had been the case after World War I. There were vast numbers of war veterans anxious to return and renew, or begin, college education. Colleges and universities were under great strain to meet the tide of increasing enrollments, especially as their budgets increased under inflation without compensatory allotments financially. Particularly hard pressed were faculty looking forward to research support, as well as a living wage. Private foundations and some military establishments, no- tably the Office of Naval Research, helped to hold things together until in the early 1950s when the National Institutes of Health and the National Sci- ence Foundation were established. The NIH grew much faster than NSF, which had begun with a minimal budget.

Fortunately, for NIH, health issues were strongly supported by Congress, largely due to the efforts of two powerful and influential senators, one from Texas and one from Alabama! NASA, which got under way in the 195Os, grew rapidly after the USSR put up the first earth-orbiting vehicle, Sputnik I, in 1957. Thereafter, under the Eisenhower and Kennedy- Johnson administrations, all agencies, including NASA, began to have support money not only for research-related goals, but also for the training of

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scientists and engineers, especially during the 1960s and beyond. Psychology also benefitted from this. Not only was there money for pre- and post-doctoral fellowships and training programs in large number, but also for symposia, conferences, workshops, and so forth, but who could have predicted this in 1951? Indeed, for some time to come in the 195Os, there was little evidence of optimal support.

During World War II, psychologists had dis- played their competence in many areas, such as personnel and training. Also, in specific research applications in communications, radar, sonar, gunnery, and all other areas where technical equipment was operated by humans, thus emphasizing the role of human factors and human engineering in the design of equipment. In peace time this would soon open extensive opportunities for psychologists and others in industry and other fields. In another area during the war, many psychologists were called upon to participate with the relatively few psychiatrists in psychiatric and psychological services. Their knowledge and skills enhanced these services, and their worth was soon recognized. Furthermore, it gave them increased confidence in their abilities and capacities, and, in general, they became identified as clinical psychologists. The Central Veterans Admin- istration Office in Washington recognized this, and faced with the custodial and treatment care of large numbers of returning veterans with psychiatric and neurologic problems, authorized a monumental and successful nationwide training program under Harold M. “Hal” Hildreth, Chief of the Clinical Psychol- ogy Section of the Central VA Office. Many psychology departments participated in this and built clinical training programs with training outlets in VA Hospitals, some of which were little more than wartime barracks buildings. However, it required several years after the war for all of these developments to take place at optimal levels.

So much for the general state of affairs in post- World War II with respect to academia and science, including psychology. What about the specifics with respect to UCLA and its development?

Whereas, the University of California at Berkeley, founded in 1868, had become a world-class university during the first two decades of the 20th century, UCLA did not yet exist! Only reluctantly did the UCB President, Benjamin Ide Wheeler and his fac-

ulty, accede to the pleas of southern Californians for some kind of a UC branch in the South. The same was true of the Governor’s appointed UC Board of Regents, only one of whom (Edward A. Dickson) represented southern California, the other 15 Regents being mainly from San Francisco and the North. This, despite the fact that the South was rapidly outgrowing the North in population and industrializa- tion and needed access to a nearby public, state-supported institution of learning. At last, begrudgingly, under Dickson’s urging and a few Regents, he won over to his viewpoint, plus numerous petitions from the South, it was agreed in 1919 to establish a two-year University of California Southern Branch in the State Normal School, Los Angeles, which gradually evolved to four years. After continuing representations from the South, UCLA became in 1929 a reality in name and was moved to a new and attractive location at the foot of the Bel-Air hills,which became known as Westwood Village of West Los Angeles. All of the foregoing is well documented in a little book by Regent Dickson entitled, University of California at Los Angeles: Its Origin and Formative Years, 1955. Thus, Dickson, who remained a Regent for nearly fifty years, had much to do with the founding and subsequent growth and development of UCLA.

Why had UC Berkeley been so reluctant and initially opposed to the development of UCLA? First, and foremost, probably they wanted to avoid the competition for state funds, which was becoming a problem in some states where two or more land-grant colleges or universities were founded. However, they put forth arguments that there was, of course, originally no campus or library and no faculty with which to start a university with standards such as UCB had. Quite legitimate arguments no doubt, but a start had to be made some place. Already, a branch of the university had started at Davis in 1906 to accommodate agriculture, horticulture, animal husbandry, and so forth, but this could be justified and was closely linked with UCB efforts along that line. Once started in 1929 as UCLA, it was kept closely under the thumb of Berkeley, which had a Chancellor, and the President was in residence there also. UCLA, until about 1950, had only a Provost. The coming of professional schools of law, engineering, business, and medicine, which were more aggressive than

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liberal arts and sciences, really began to get it rolling in the 1950s first under Chancellor Raymond Allen (1952-591, and even more so under the active and aggressive direction of Chancellor Franklin Murphy (1960-68), and since then under Murphy’s former assistant, Chancellor Charles Young.

In 1929, Robert Gordon Sproul became the Presi- dent of the University of California and ran it very successfully with an iron hand for the next 30 years. He was succeeded by Clark Kerr, a Ph.D. in Eco- nomics at Berkeley, who had been successful in the field of industrial relations and labor, followed by the chancellorship at Berkeley (1952-58) and as President (1958-67). It was Kerr’s insight and dar- ing which led him to propose a mega-university and who developed the Master Plan for the State of California with regard to higher education. This included the University of California system (now nine campuses), the State College and University system, and the Junior College system. In the broadening of the university system, California led most other states, although many now have multiple campuses.

Interestingly, the Los Angeles State Normal School, with which the UC Southern Branch became affiliated in 1919, had been in existence for some time. One of its professors, from 1906-10, surprisingly, had been Lewis M. Terman, who thereafter had a long and distinguished career at Stanford University from 1910-42. Also, there were five women psychologists associated with it, whose Ph.Ds were as follows: Grace M. Femald, Chicago, 1907; Carolyn Fisher, Clark, 1913; Kate Gordon, Chicago, 1903; Elizabeth T. Sullivan, Columbia, 1922; and Ellen B. Sullivan, Stanford, 1924. All of them were members of APA, and all but E.T.S. continued with appointments at UCLA after 1929. It was unusual in those days to have a psychology department in which women outnumbered men by a ratio of four to one, but that was the case when Shepherd Ivory Franz came to UC Southern Branch in 1924 as a lecturer, and in 1925, was appointed professor and head until his death in 1933. However, this state of affairs was relieved somewhat when Joseph Gengerelli, Ph.D. Pennsylvania, and Howard Gilhousen, Ph.D., UC Berkeley, joined him as instructors in 1929 and 193 1, respectively.

Franz was clearly the first physiological psychologist in the USA. He took his Ph.D. with James

McKeen Cattell at Columbia in 1899, then taught and did research at Harvard and Dartmouth Medical Schools and at McClain Psychiatric Hospital in the Boston area. His ablation studies of the frontal lobes in cats and monkeys was a forerunner of similar work conducted at Yale in the 1930s by Carlyle Jabsonsen, and his work with psychiatric and neurologic patients at McClain made him a pioneer neu- ropsychologist also. His neuropsychologic work continued from 1906-24 at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Washington, DC where he was director of laboratories and research. He was also professor of psychology and physiology at George Washington Univer- sity and Medical School during that time. Karl Lash- ley, who had taken his Ph.D. in zoology at Johns Hopkins with Herbert Jennings, during a post-doctoral year with Jennings travelled to Washington and did some work with Franz, especially learning operative technique and procedures. Several large and attractive buildings were under construction during Franz’ period at UCLA but his death in 1933 at the age of 59 precluded much opportunity to use them. Instead, he and his “ladies” confined their research pretty much to patients in local hospitals and children in schools.

Although Franz was coming to the end of his career at UCLA, his distinction in earlier work and his election to the presidency of APA in 1923, led his colleagues at UCLA to select him for the honor of University Research Lecturer in 1926, “the high- est honor the University Senate bestows upon one of its own.” His topic was, “How the Brain Works.” In the years since then, there have been some 60 University Research Lecturers. Five of these were on related topics dealing with brain, nervous system, and behavior. The years, names, departments, and topics of these were: 1957, H.W. Magoun (anatomy) “The Platonic Soul and the Contemporary Brain”; 1960, D.B.Lindsley (psychology-physiology) “Brain Development and Behavior”; 1962, T.H. Bullock (zoology) “How Can Nerve Cells Handle Informa- tion”; 1967, C.H. Sawyer (anatomy) “Hormones and the Brain”; 1986, A.B. Scheibel (anatomy-psychiatry) “As the Brain Grows Up and Grows Older.” Three years after Franz death, Knight Dunlap, a distinguished experimental psychologist at Johns Hopkins was appointed professor and head of psychology. In 1939, he too was selected University

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Research Lecturer on the basis of his past research. His topic was, “Research in Methods of Adjustment.” Thus far, the only psychologists selected for this honor have been Franz, Dunlap, and Lindsley. Dunlap brought Roy C. Dorcus, clinical and abnormal psychologist at Johns Hopkins to UCLA in 1937, and Franklin Fearing from North- western to UCLA in 1936 as a physiological psychologist, but he soon shifted his field of interest to social psychology. Dunlap retired in 1947 and died in 1949. Thus, again, there had been intervals of little leadership during and immediately after the war. What had been accomplished during Dunlap’s tenure as head was the building of a fine new building for psychology in 1939. During this period from 1945, at war’s end, to 1950, ten new appointments were made mainly at the instructor and assistant professor levels. Also, there had begun a policy of having rotating chairmen of the department, so that the sequence of relatively short-term (3-5 years) appointments was as follows: Dorcus (1947-491, Wenger (19499501, Gengerelli (50-551, Gilhousen (55-591, Lindsley (59-621, Jones (62-7 l), Maltz- man (71-76), Feshbach (76-811, Raven (81-88). The major growth periods of the department had been in the 1950s 1960s and 197Os, particularly the latter two.

When I came to UCLA in 1951, the Department of Psychology had 16 full-time faculty and two secretaries. The building occupied in 1939 had 16,000 square feet of space on three floors above ground and one below. From the beginning, it had been named in honor of Franz, and the total complex in the 1980s is still all called Franz Hall. In 1959, when I became chairman, the size of the faculty had doubled to about 35, and we had just moved into the second connecting building of three stories above ground and two below, adding 28,000 square feet, as I recall. We also began planning then an even larger addition with eight stories above ground and three below, bringing the total space to well over 100,000 square feet. By the 198Os, the full-time faculty had again more than doubled to 75 or 80. All of this was in keeping with what was happening elsewhere in psychology and is particularly reflected in the growth of the American Psychological Association. In 1943, APA had a total membership of 3,478. By 1953, it had grown to 10,903, by 1963 to 20,898, by 1973 to

35,254, and by 1986 to 63,146, while rough esti- mates such as I am about to make can be greatly in error, nevertheless I will hazard it. In 1943, I would guess that academic psychologists (general, experimental etc.> outnumbered professional psychologists

(applied, clinical etc.) by a ratio of 7:l; by 1948 the ratio might be 1:l; by 1951 a ratio of 1:2; by 1968 a ratio of 1:3; by 1975 a ratio of 1:5; and thereafter about 1:5! There is hardly any way to determine the number of drop-outs or non-joiners. Furthermore, divisional membership is tricky due to multiple and overlapping memberships. For example, I once be- longed to Divisions 3, 6, and 12; I now belong to 3, 6, and 26.

Speaking of divisions of APA, it may just be that the divisional structure of APA, which was created and implemented in 1945-46, has outlived its usefulness and led in recent years to divisiveness. The reorganization of APA at that time and the creation of a limited number of divisions was intended partly to accommodate anticipated growth and diversity of membership and partly to bring members of AAAP (American Association of Applied Psychology) into APA in a congenial relationship. For some time, it seemed to have accomplished these aims and goals. However, the vast growth in membership in a short time and the proliferation of more than twice as many divisions as originally called for, together with other complexities of the APA organization chart, eventually put strains upon one or another division or groups of divisions. Academics and experimental people, who had once dominated the organization, now found the circumstances reversed and professionals were in command. Professionals had more and different needs than academics, and many of those needs were adding greatly to the dues that all members were expected to pay. Power politics began to come into play, and academics began to feel that they were subject to a “squeeze play” leaving them short of convention time and services, while paying for other services only of value and necessity to professionals.

Back in the 1950s I and some others could see this beginning to happen and began to think of ways to obviate it. Some experimentalist in SEP, with whom I was associated, instead of working to allevi- ate the difficulties thought only of resigning membership in APA. Others of us, as I recall, Schlosberg,

128 D.B. Lindsley/Internotional Journal of Psychophysiology 20 11995) 83-141

Geldard, and myself, argued that we should stay with APA and try to resolve the problem. My own proposal to the Policy and Planning Committee of APA, of which I was then a member (1955-571, was that a Federation be formed similar to that of the Federa- tion of American Societies for Experimental Biology in which several societies existed autonomously under the same overall tent. For example, the American Physiological Society, of which I was a member, and the American Pharmacological Society could have separate officers, dues structures, and even separate meetings or conjoint meetings with other societies of the Federation. It all seemed to work well and provide the strength in numbers for cooperative endeav- ors such as research fund lobbying and common defense against antivivisectionist attacks, and so forth. The Policy and Planning Board did not buy the idea, which I think was unfortunate, for it would have been easier to accomplish then than now. I, again, made the proposal in written form in 1976 spelling out how various divisions might be coa- lesced under four groupings. Then, within the past year, I submitted the Federation idea as well as a two, three, or four Assembly idea in response to a questionnaire by a committee studying and trying to prepare a reorganization plan that would be accept- able to all parties. It wasn’t accepted by APA Coun-

cil but is now coming up for vote of the membership. Hopefully, some agreement will be reached through compromise, for it would be sad for APA after all of these years of usefulness to become a hollow shell of its original self and perhaps deteriorate and collapse entirely.

I cite the above to show that I have consistently sought to support one of my most important professional and scientific societies. Other APA committees and boards I was a member of during the 1950s were: Chairman, Standards and Training Committee (1949-51), Education and Training Board (1951- 53), Board of Scientific Affairs (1957-59), and Rep- resentative of APA to AAAS (1967-69).

I was honored by election to the National Academy of Sciences in 1952, as I have mentioned before, and served as Chairman of the Psychology Section (1958-62), Committee on Governmental Re- lations (196 l-62), Committee on Science and Public Policy (1962-64), and Committee on Brain Sciences (1967-71), which was responsible for initiating the

Society for Neurosciences in 1970, which has become such a magnificient interdisciplinary organization, including many physiological psychologists, psychobiologists and neuropsychologists.

Still another organization, of which I have been proud to be a Charter and Organizing Member (19581, is the International Brain Research Organization (IBRO), which was set up with the aid of UNESCO and WHO (World Health Organization). UNESCO House, in Paris, was the base for many of our meetings. I was a Council Member from 1958-63 and Treasurer from 1967-72. IBRO has sponsored workshops in different parts of the world, especially in some Third World countries; it has provided fellowships to bring young scientists into contact with others in modem laboratories and has sponsored international congresses, which attract participants from all over the world, and especially from the USSR, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Romania, and East Germany which is a step in the direction of world peace.

In 1957, I received a letter from Professor E.G. Boring of Harvard saying that I had been selected by the Psychology-Philosophy departments that sponsor the prestigious William James Lectures to give those lectures in the Fall semester of 1958, one lecture a week for ten weeks. About every four years, the two departments alternate in selecting the lecturer. The first one, as I recall, was John Dewey, followed by a long list of distinguished psychologists, philoso- phers, and others. The last lecturer, four years preceding my invitation, was J. Robert Oppenheimer, a physicist instrumental in the development of the atomic bomb, who in the 1950s was a professor and director of the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton University. Four years before Oppen- heimer, it was Frank A. Beach, a physiological and comparative psychologist, distinguished for his research on animal sex behavior. Naturally, I felt I could not refuse such an honor and opportunity,so I accepted and planned to make 1958-59 my sabbatical year. Strangely, I had never taken a sabbatical before or since, for I always felt I had too many research irons in the fire and too many Ph.D. students, post-doctorals and scientific visitors in my laboratories who were depending on me. For the same reasons, I even declined two attractive invita- tions to spend a year at the Center for Advanced


Study in the Behavioral Sciences at Stanford, Cali-

fornia. In 1957, I began to prepare in earnest for the year

1958-59 in absentia. I already had made a commit- ment to spend the month of August at Woods Hole, Massachusetts, on a National Academy of Sciences summer project with a group of scientists. Beginning in October, there would be 10 weekly William James Lectures. Then from January to August of 1959, I held a Guggenheim Fellowship to visit brain research institutes and laboratories of neurophysiologists and psychologists all over Europe, including the USSR, Polandand Czechoslovakia. I had planned my ten lectures and selected groups of slides to illustrate each. At that time, my slides were of the old fashioned type, 3 l/4 X 4 inch glass slides and quite heavy, so I packed them carefully in a card- board carton and decided that the safest way to transport them was to place the box on the floor immediately behind the driver’s seat of our auto. My wife, Ellen, and our two younger children, Robert, 17, and Sara Ellen, 12, were to go with us for the year. The two older ones were in college.

We left in mid-July, stopping in Boulder, Col- orado, where Francis 0. “Frank” Schmitt, MIT biophysicist, had invited me to attend a special meeting of the new Biophysical Society. Our next stop was in Ohio, where we visited my Mother and brother and family in Sandusky. Here, disaster struck! The third night of our stay in a local motel, with our car parked directly in front of our motel room window, someone broke into the car, but not the trunk, and took the heavy box of slides and a few other things we thought were secure and inconspicuous. My first thought was to turn around and go back home but we did not have time for that. Furthermore, I had a feeling that once the contents of the box had been discovered, the offenders would perhaps have the grace to just set the box out somewhere where it could be found. It had the address of Dr. Augustus Rose, neurologist at UCLA on it, for I had picked up the empty box in the hall outside his office in the medical school. But no such luck in the following weeks. However, the Cleveland Police called me with the news, “We have your slides and other materials! ” Hastily, I left Boston for Cleveland, and a trip with the police van and car to the east side of Cleveland and the ground floor apartment of a high-

rise building where endless amounts of stolen prop- erty had been cached. The mass of slides with emul- sion melted were all stuck together, having been put in an incinerator next door. The other miscellaneous items (but no cameras) were not worth the trip to Cleveland, but at least I now knew that the slides would not be recovered intact.

Dr. Magoun, at UCLA, learning of the fate of my slides, selected a number of his of the same type,

which he thought I might be able to use. He had a technician buy a metal slide box with tongue-like separators and loaded it with his slides. The box was carefully packed in a carton, but overlooked was the fact that jolts might cause the slides inside to be dislodged, which indeed they were and every one cracked or damaged beyond use. I then called my secretary at UCLA and asked that she go through my research manuscript files and send every 8 X 10 glossy print she could find. Fortunately, I brought along a little portable Polaroid photocopier, so that each week of my lectures I would be busily preparing the same sized Polaroid slides, sometimes almost at the last minute! Nevertheless, the lectures were a success, at least from my viewpoint.

At that time, a few years before the William James Hall, a high-rise building was constructed and all of the Harvard psychologists brought together once again under the same roof, the so-called “ex- perimentalists” (Boring, Stevens, Skinner, Newman, George Miller, von Bekesy, and others) and their laboratories were housed in the basement of venerable and famous Memorial “Mem” Hall. Gordon Allport’s “separated” social group was housed elsewhere in Harvard Yard. George Miller was on sab- baticaland so I had the pleasure of his office in which to work on my lectures and prepare the slides. I also gave a few seminars for graduate students and staff and always enjoyed the discussions and repartee of the daily lunch around a big oval table in a room with a kitchen where Boring and the others made their sandwiches.

When Boring had first invited me to give the lectures, I had cautiously asked about the audience I might expect. He said there would probably be a goodly number from surrounding schools in the Boston area, as well as the local staff and graduate students. He also said, “There will also be the usual little old ladies and men of the Cambridge area who

130 D.B. Lindsley/lnternationI Journal of Psychophysiology 20 11995183-141

will be curious about your topic (‘Brain Organiza- tion and Behavior’) and you, but will probably drop out after a time!” The lectures were not held in the cavernous large lecture room of “Mem” Hall above, but instead in a fine new building across the street. The locus in the building was a steeply sloping lecture room probably accommodating 200 or more. Before Smitty Stevens could introduce me,it had completely filled and people were sitting in the central aisle, and yet others were trying to get into the room. My apprehension was rising, but I managed to remain calm. Then it was decided to move to a larger lecture room in the same building, so that transfer took place with some confusion, naturally!

To my surprise and pleasure, but slight embarrassment, I observed seated near the front, Drs. Alexander Forbes, Stanley Cobb, Hallowell Davis, and others from Harvard Medical School and the Massachusetts General Hospital. Forbes, Cobb, and Davis had been the very people 1 worked with some 23-25 years before, and who were my mentors during my two-year fellowship at Harvard in 1933- 35. They were all kind to greet me and congratulate me upon the close of the first lecture, and when they could, they attended others. Boring was perhaps correct that there would be some diminution in the size of the audience as time went on, but he and Stevens had underestimated the size, and the lectures continued in the larger room throughout.

During the Fall, I had used an excellent book, Europa Touring: Automobile Motoring Guide, Beme: Hallwag, 1958, to plan in detail our itinerary for the next six months on my Guggenheim Fellowship in Europe, and we kept pretty much to that schedule of travelling. I had written to most of the principal scientists I expected to see in the different countries and had received most warm and courteous invita- tions for my visits, and many asked me to give talks along the way.‘1 made preparations in New York for visas and so forth and visited the Cosmos Travel Bureau which then handled money and other In- tourist Guide arrangements for our auto travel in the USSR (the second year such travel had been permitted). A German Opel Rekord sedan had been ordered for pickup in Zurich. We flew overnight in a four- prop plane (no jets at that time) to Lisbon then on to Zurich where we found our car ready and waiting for us.

Now our 16,000 mile trip began with a German car, a Swiss license, and, obviously, four Americans! People had warned us not to go to the USSR at that sensitive time when Dulles and Khrushchev were at war over the Berlin Wall but all went well, and we were warmly received by USSR scientists and the people at large. The latter were not incensed about our German car as some had predicted; instead they crowded around it eager to see something other than “Zims”, “Zises,“or Czech “Skodas”. Fortunately, it was a great year and time of year to travel, and we soon learned how to live well but inexpensively. We avoided tourist hotels and restaurants and sought out small hotels and restaurants patronized by natives. Generally, our basic costs of food and lodging for four and petrol was seldom greater than $20 per day. Far different from the present!

The following is the essential route and the scientists visited: Basle (Monnier); Freiburg (Jung, Has- sler, Hoffmann, Creutzfeldt, et al.); Beme, Lausanne, Geneva (Piaget, Inhelder, Berlyne, a visitor); Lyon (Jouvet); Marseilles (Gastaut, Naquet, Paillard); Genoa (Rossi); Pisa (Moruzzi et al. and visitors Melzack and James Smith); Rome (Bovet, Longo, Ricci); Naples, Sorrento, Florence (Zanchetti, Li- bretti); Venice, Milan; Marseilles, Montpellier (Pas- souant); Barcelona, Valencia, Madrid (Wright, Cajal Institute); Valladolid, Burgos, San Sebastian, Biar- ritz, Bordeaux, Paris (Fessard, Albe-Fessard, Buser, Dell, Scherrer, Calvet, Remond, Fraisse, Bloch et al.); Heidelberg, Baden Baden, Mainz, Frankfurt, Cologne, Bonn (Ebbecke); Liege (Schlag); Brussels (Bremer, Desmedt); Amsterdam (Schade); Rotter- dam, Copenhagen (Buchthal, Lennox-Buchthal); Lund (Ingvar); Gothenurg @.A. Andersson); Oslo (Brodal, Kaada); Stockholm (Granit, Bernhard, von Euler, Skoglund); Turku, Helsinki; Leningrad (Gersuni, Chernigovsky, Kupalov, Merculov, Hananashvili, Kozhevnikov); Koltushi (Airapetiantz, Federov, Krasusskiy); Moscow (Anokhin, Asratyan, Voronin, Sokolov, Luria, Simonov, Sarkisov, Smimov, Vinogradova); Warsaw (Konorski, Kozak, Wyrwicka); Prague (BureS); Bratislava (Ciganek); Vienna, Zurich (Akert, Hess); Basle, Paris, London (Harris, Young); Bristol (Walter, Ashby); Oxford, Cambridge (Adrian, Bartlett, Broadbent, Weiskrantz, Zangwill).

In London, we discovered Clarence H. “Clancy”


Graham with his wife, Elaine, spending a sabbatical year at the University of London. We celebrated 4th of July with them by opening a bottle of champagne I had purchased with my remaining ruble-credits as we left the USSR at Brest-Litovsk. A week later, we were embarking with our car on the S.S. United States from Southampton. On arrival in New York, we drove in the Opel to Quincy, Massachusetts, to pick up our Chevrolet car, which we had left with our good friends, Albert and Ellen Grass of the Grass Instrument Company and of the Grass Foundation. With son Robert, now 18, and his sister, Sara Ellen, following us in the Opel, our caravan eventually reached Santa Monica and home without mishap, after a most interesting and memorable sabbatical

year. While on my sabbatical and visiting laboratories

in Europe, I received a cable in Madrid from Paul A. Dodd, then Dean of the College of Letters and Science, UCLA, saying that he and the Department of Psychology faculty had decided that I should be the next chairman and would I accept. I had never aspired to being chairman or head of a department, although I had been approached about it at several universities in the past such as Vanderbilt, Chicago, Pennsylvania, Texas, and a few others. It was always my feeling that my forte lay more with research than administration, and certainly research had more appeal for me. Wherever I had been, however, I had always felt strong responsibility to do whatever I could to participate in departmental affairs in an effort to strengthen them by accepting more than my share of committee responsibilities in the department and on the campus generally. I suppose it was in this vein of thinking that I weakened and said, “Yes, I would.” But I insisted that I must have a Vice Chairman, an Administrative Assistant, and more office and technical staff, and consideration with respect to more teaching assistants. He promised that he would do what he could in these regards, but I had nearly finished my three-year term before all of it was accomplished.

In my opinion, the department had been flounder- ing and in a state of lassitude since the war. Part of the trouble was in the lack of insight and aggressive administration from the chancellor on down to the department level. Some good young people had come aboard in the past lo- 15 years; some of them stayed

on, and some of them, that we should have been able to keep, left. I, myself, had been unhappy with my lot in psychology in that no provision had been made when I came for research space or in the sharing of courses, in which I had special competence to teach, although I willingly accepted the teaching of courses that no one else wanted or were prepared to teach. In 1956, in particular, when I had six offers at the same time, I was very close to accepting a professorship at Johns Hopkins, when Wendell “Tex” Garner was chairman there. My appointments in the medical school and my role in Magoun’s brain research group, plus the fact that we were soon to have the Brain Research Institute made the difference. When, finally in 1961, Magoun and the rest of us, who had been using research facilities at the Long Beach VA Hospital or the other VA hospitals in the neighborhood, were able to move into ample laboratory space of the Brain Research Institute, it meant that we could accommodate the number of graduate students and foreign visitors who were applying to come. Another hopeful sign was the coming of Kerr as President, with very forward looking ideas, and Chancellor Murphy, eager to see UCLA become more autonomous in its goals and management.

However, UCLA was not the only psychology department struggling to reorganize and reposition itself in status. The one that led the way, in my opinion, was Michigan, where Don Marquis came early after the war, and in the next lo-12 years, built a very strong department and incorporated new and efficient ideas in its organizational structure. I had made a project-site visit there in connection with Jim Olds’ research, and Marquis invited me to join him and several of his top staff at his home one night, where we discussed the future of psychology and how best to promote it. I tried to introduce some of these ideas at UCLA, plus some of my own, but for some reason, my efforts seemed to have been in vain, and in the end, I was glad to return to my laboratories, graduate students, and post-doctorals, and leave the chairmanship of the department to F. Nowell Jones, who by then was more successful than I had been. Eventually, the department built up strength, size, and facilities in several areas, and for the past 10 years or so, has had high ratings. Also, after our second and third building additions, my space needs were quite adequately cared for both in

132 D.B. Lindsley/ International Joiournai of Psychophysiology 20 11995183-141

Psychology and the Brain Research Institute, so perhaps my patience with my lot paid off in the end. Also, I like to think that my brief stint as chairman did something to break the deadlock which existed when one of our own members serving as Divisional Dean for Life Sciences seemed to feel he was eam- ing respect and admiration from the administration by holding down the budget for the department of psychology! I also recall my determination when I requested of Chancellor Murphy an opportunity to talk personally with President Kerr on one of his visits and present graphic data showing how UCLA generally had fewer teaching assistants than UC Berkeley, and also that Psychology as a laboratory science, as well as Biology, Chemistry, and Physics, needed a higher ratio of laboratory assistants. He was a reasonable man and could not refute the evidence I presented.

Interestingly, it was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who, even before the war’s end, wrote a letter to Vannevar Bush, Director of the Office of Scientific Research and Development, compliment- ing him upon how important OSRD had been in mobilizing the efforts of hundreds of scientists in the war effort. The letter, dated November 17, 1944, was near the end of Roosevelt’s third term, and he was asking Bush what could be done to preserve and transmit the knowledge gained for peace-time activities following the war (much of it, at the time, was classified of course). Also, Roosevelt asked how science itself could be enhanced and more people trained in post-war periods. It was questions of this sort and the answers which Vannevar Bush supplied in his famous report, “Science the Endless Frontier,” which led to the establishment of the National Sci- ence Foundation and also the National Institutes of Health. Bush mobilized several high-level committees of scientists to frame his reply, but unfortunately, Roosevelt had died early in his fourth term as President on April 12, 1945, and Bush’s report was sent to President Truman on July 5, 1945. Thus, Roosevelt, Bush, and Truman were all instrumental in the support universities and scientists have received from the government, and that we have such agencies as NIH and NSF. On the tenth anniversary of NSF, a paperback monograph was dedicated to Bush whose photo appears on the frontispiece. In addition to Bush’s original report, “Science the End-

less Frontier,” it includes the letters and reports of the various committees and their members. Dr. Alan T. Waterman, the first Director of NSF, wrote the Introduction to Science the Endless Frontier (1950-

60). It is amazing that Roosevelt, an invalid and polio victim, who held the country together during the Depression and mobilized it for a war,which was not yet over, could be thinking ahead to the needs of the country and the populace for a more fruitful peace-time existence. Of course Congress had a hand in this too, but the catalyst was Roosevelt.

I was awarded a Presidential Certificate of Merit signed by President Truman for my wartime research effort as Director of a Radar Operator Research and Training Program. I was also a member of the first NSF Advisory Panel for General Experimental Psy- chology grants (1952-54). John T. Wilson, a Stan- ford Ph.D. in Psychology, was then Program Direc- tor for Psychology at NSF. Earlier, he had been a Lt. in the Navy Bureau of Ships, serving as assistant to Captain Dan Beard,who headed the radar division that had been one of the services which had requested my project. Wilson was a great help to me in that connection. He later became President of the University of Chicago (1975-78). Richard C. Atkin- son, a Ph.D. in Psychology from Indiana, who distinguished himself in research and teaching at Stanford and then became Director of NSF for some years before accepting his present position as Chancellor at UC San Diego, was one of the fine young people we had in psychology at UCLA (1957-611, and we allowed to get away, in fact during my term as chairman. However, I don’t believe it was through any fault of mine, for when he told me he had an offer from Stanford, I said, “Dick, is there any chance that you might stay if I can get a matching offer from the administration?” His answer was a 50-50 chance, which I said was good enough for me and got the matching offer. I couldn’t blame him for his decision to go to Stanford, for I knew he had close research ties there in mathematical psychology and opportunities to do research on then popular “teaching machines.”

My first appointment in the UCLA Medical School was in Pediatrics (1951-53). The Medical School and Hospital buildings, a vast complex, was still in the planning and building stages for the next three or four years, and classes and laboratories were held in

D.B. LindSk?y/~nterMtiOM~ Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 133

barracks-like buildings and a structure previously housing the Religious Conference Center. Pediatrics was located off-campus about three miles in the Marian Davies Clinic buildings. I set up an EEG laboratory there and began research and clinical reporting on cerebral palsy children and adults being studied by Dr. Margaret Jones. Since I had no facilities for research in psychology, I arranged at nearby Wadsworth V.A. Hospital to come at 6:30 in the morning and use the EEG laboratory to study patients with neuro-dermatitis in collaboration with a young neurologist. No psychiatrist had yet been named, and Dean Stafford Warren asked me to teach the first-year course in Psychobiology. No one knew who had scheduled a course by that title or what was intended, but I suspected that it had come to be there because Roy Dorcus had been an early advisor in connection with the medical school and had come from Johns Hopkins where Adolph Meyer was head of psychiatry and the Phipps Clinic and was, I believe, the first to introduce the word Psychobiol- ogy. In any case, Dean Warren asked that it be focused upon infancy and childhood since first-year medical students were to begin with a family medicine program, in which they would be assigned to follow a pregnant mother and family through four years of medical school. Consequently, among other things, I emphasized the assessment programs of Arnold Gesell and collaborators at Yale, and the work of Nancy Bailey, Psyche Cattell, and others. Two years later, Dr. Norman Q. Brill came as head of Psychiatry, and Dean Warren asked that I become a member of that department as nominal head of a small, but rapidly expanding, medical psychology division (1953-56). Later, in 1958, it was headed by Ivan Mensh, who had been a graduate student at Northwestern when I was there. From 1956, on I became a member of the Physiology Department at the request of its Chairman, John Field.

Dr. Magoun had assembled an excellent beginning staff in anatomy, most of whom were function- ally oriented and interested in some aspect of the brain and nervous system. By good fortune, he was able to arrange for some research space at the Long Beach VA Hospital, where Dr. John D. French was Chief of Neurosurgery. Dr. Magoun and I had both known Dr. French when he had been associated with neurosurgeon, Percival Bailey in Chicago. This re-

search facility was in barracks-like buildings which were behind the hospital and had been used during the war to house relatives of patients when it was a Navy Hospital. Throughout the 1950s the research group and its space and facilities there increased as more and more national and international students and visiting scientists were attracted to the brain research program. In 1961, the 1 l-story Brain Re- search Institute had been added to the UCLA Medi- cal complex and allowed all of us to be housed there with ample space. (For background and history see French, Lindsley, and Magoun, 1984). I had four separate laboratories and many graduate and post- doctoral students there during the 1960s and 1970s. Dr. French was its first Director for 16 years, and during part of that time, I was Chairman of the BRI Advisory Committee. During the 1950s Dr. Magoun and I were neighbors in Santa Monica, and three days a week, when we had no teaching or other commitments on campus (Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday), we made the 35-mile trip to the Long Beach laboratories by auto, which before freeways required 1 l/2 hours because of many stoplights en route.

At UCLA, my research began to focus on the visual system, especially its central neural mechanisms and their relation to the psychological aspects of vision in perception, learning, memory, and attention. Basically, I thought of it as a systems approach

in which certain components of the visual mechanism would be identified and isolated by electrical stimulation and recording procedure, and later by cryogenic blocking of pathways and nuclei, and then in chronic behaving preparations the psychological and behavioral effects would be assessed. At the same time, in my human laboratories in the Depart- ment of Psychology, we attempted to carry on paral- lel studies in human adult subjects, but, of course, without the operative manipulation of brain and visual pathways. Instead, the manipulation of the temporal aspects of visual stimulation, such as the masking effects of successive stimuli, were often used to advantage. The verbal communication with human subjects, of course, had advantages in providing instructions, set, and so forth that could only be accomplished in cats and monkeys by other stratagems. I always gave Ph.D. students and post- doctorates great liberty and independence in their

134 D.B. Lindsley/lnternational Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995183-141

choice of problems to be studied but tried to keep them in the general range of the field of vision and insisted that wherever possible, behavioral components be included or implied. I think it was for this reason that the Society for Neuroscience permitted the setting up of a Donald B. Lindsley Prize in Behavioral Neuroscience, which is funded by the Grass Foundation. The Prize is for the best Ph.D. thesis during the preceding year, in which behavioral

methods, techniques, or implications are combined with other neuroscience methods and concerns. Dur- ing the past 15 years of this prize award, there have been numerous excellent theses submitted and often very clever and unique procedures employed in the search for neural correlates of behavior.

During the 1950s and 196Os, I was involved in the selection process of grant-awarding agencies. In addition to the NSF Advisory Panel (1952-541, there was a four-year term on the first Mental Health Study Section (NIMH). It was followed by five years on the Neurology Study Section (NINDB), and four years on the Behavioral Sciences Training Panel of NIGMS, the last three years of which I was the Chairman (1966-69). From 1966-71, I was a member of the Behavioral Biology Panel of AIBS-NASA, which awarded NASA supported grants. From 1963-70, I was consultant reviewer for neurology and psychology with respect to Guggenheim Fellow- ships, and from 1970-78, was on the Guggenheim Educational Advisory Board.

In the 1960s and 7Os, as a member of the National Academy of Sciences, I was appointed to its Space Science Board (1967-721, which had been charged by NASA to deal with a variety of factors concerned with orbiting vehicles and space ships sent on long- duration missions in space. I was delegated to serve on three subcommittees of the Space Science Board: Life Sciences Committee, Space Medicine Commit- tee, and the Committee on Long-Duration Missions. With respect to the latter, I was asked to form and chair a Steering Committee, which would plan and produce a monograph on Human Factors in Space- flight, much ,as had been done in the late 194Os, when we produced the book Human Factors in Undersea Warfare. My Steering Committee was comprised of the following: W. Ross Adey, neuroanatomist-neurophysiologist, UCLA; Loren D. Carlson, physiologist, UC Davis; Frank R. Ervin,

neuropsychiatrist, Massachusetts General Hospital; Robert Galambos, neurophysiologist, UC San Diego; Joseph McGrath, psychologist, University of Illinois; William D. Neff, physiological psychologist, Indiana University; Stanley Schacter, psychologist, Columbia University; Saul B. Sells, psychologist, Texas Chris- tian University; Robert B. Voas, psychologist, De- partment of Transportation, Washington, D.C. Voas, incidentally, had taken his Ph.D. under me at UCLA in 1952 and had, subsequently, been in charge of certain aspects of the training of the first Mercury Astronauts to go into space.

After several meetings, during which specific topic areas were planned, additional contributors for the writing were chosen as follows; D.E. Busby, Conti- nental Airlines, Los Angeles; W. Dean Chiles, Fed- eral Aviation Administration; Robert G. Eason, Univ. of North Carolina, Greensboro; T. Morris Fraser, Univ. of Waterloo, Canada; E.K. Eric Gunderson, Naval Medical Neuropsychiatric Research Unit, San Diego; M. Russell Harter, Univ. of North Carolina, Greensboro; William W. Haythom, Florida State University; Robert L. Helmreich, Univ. of Texas, Austin; Edwin P. Hollander, SUNY, Buffalo; Lav- eme C. Johnson, Naval Medical Neuropsychiatric Research Unit, San Diego; Edward R. Jones, Mc- Donnell Douglas, Corp. St. Louis; Bib Latane, Ohio State University; Howard Leventhal, Univ. of Wis- consin; Roland Radloff, Naval Medical Research Institute, Bethesda; John Stem, Washington Univ., St. Louis; and Harold L. Williams, Univ. of Okla- homa School of Medicine. The final product was Human Factors in Long-Duration Spacejlight. Washington, D.C.: National Academy of Sciences, 1972, 272 p.

12. Addendum, redundum, ad infinitum

When I came to UCLA, in the Summer of 1951, to take up a new and challenging position as Profes- sor in Psychology and in the Medical School, I was 43 years of age. According to a popular expression, “Life Begins at Forty,” I should have attained that glorious state of life three years before. Well, indeed, I had, and perhaps even before that! My wife, Ellen, and I had come with four children, two boys and two girls. David was then 15 and Margaret 13; both had


Fig. 1. The Don and Ellen Lindsley family in 1954. David 18,

Margaret 16, Robert 12, Sara Ellen 7.

been born in Cleveland, as previously mentioned. Robert, aged 9, was born in Providence, Rhode Island, and Sara Ellen, aged 4, was born in Evanston, Illinois (Fig. 1). They were a wonderful family, growing up rapidly and doing well, thanks to their mother, who had perhaps sacrificed a theatrical career to become a homemaker and graciously look after all of us. She even, willingly, carried some of my family responsibilities, when I, perhaps selfishly, devoted more time than I should to research and career development. I think she understood and accepted my rationalization that what was good for my career goals would in the end pay dividends for all of us! I think all of our extended family would now agree on this. Ellen and I have had 62 years of happy married life and have travelled to many parts of the world on my professional trips. We are also proud of our six grandchildren, three boys and three girls, now in 1995, all adults, ranging in age from 22 to 37. Also, now proudly, we can report four great grandchildren, three boys and a girl.

In the foregoing, I have dealt, perhaps exces- sively, with the details of my life, but I felt it important to an autobiography and have tried to weave into it some background history of psychology. The first 18 years were a formative period of my life as a person. The next 25 years were a formative period of my scholarly and scientific preparation for a professional career, which would bring me great satisfaction, not only because of my own accomplishments, but through my many students and associates in research, of whom I am very proud. Up to the time of coming to UCLA, I had about 50 publications, but in the years that followed, I would add nearly 200 more, including some 42 chapters in books and symposia volumes. At North- western, I had sponsored 8 Ph.D. candidates, and at UCLA, would add 42 more to the list. Also there would be a list of about 70 post-doctorals or visiting scientists, who had spent time in my laboratories. Much of the nature and diversity of the research articles and book chapters, I have not been able to discuss here, but the tenor and trends of it over the years will be indicated in the titles and topics and the names of my associates revealed in the lists of publications and book chapters. Much of the credit, of course, belongs to my many Ph.D. students, post- doctorals, and visiting scientist collaborators, who I fully and gratefully acknowledge.

A major part of my career was yet ahead of me, when I came to UCLA in 195 1, as I have tried to reveal. The last 26 years, until official retirement at the age of 70, were very fruitful but tremendously demanding years in terms of time, effort, and dedication to teaching, research, administration, departmental and university committees, services rendered to military and governmental agencies, committees and offices of national and international scientific and professional societies, and editorial duties for several scientific journals. I have been able to mention only a few of these in passing, however; the full list will be found in the Appendices of a book dedicated to me by former students and colleagues (Galbraith, Kietzman, and Donchin, 19881, in which my Vitae, Students, Post-doctorals, and Bibliography are presented. What is not indicated there is that from 1939 to the present, I was an invited participant in 50 national and international symposia, conferences, workshops, and special celebrations and dedications,

136 D.B. Lindsley/Interndonl Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141

where I made presentations. Also, that I gave more than 40 invited lectures at various colleges and universities in the U.S. and abroad.

Among the international congresses, symposia, and conferences in which I participated were the following: Montreal (1939), Montevideo, Uruguay ( 1955), Amsterdam, Netherlands ( 1962), Moscow, Russia (1963), Bratislava, Czechoslovakia (1965), Salzburg and Vienna, Austria (19651, Moscow, Rus- sia (19661, Teddington, England (1967), Warsaw, Poland (1968), Toronto (196831, Montreal (1970), Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (1971), Sydney, Australia ( 1972), Paris, France (19761, Mainz, Germany (1977) and Mexico City (1980). In 1969, I was invited to participate in an International Conference of Cross- Disciplinary Approaches in the Biomedical Sciences, sponsored by the South African National Research Council for Scientific and Industrial Research. After the meeting, I was invited to visit or lecture in the following universities: Cape Town, Stoellenbosch, Durban, Natal, Pretoria and Witwatersrand. In the Spring of 1967, I was an invited participant in the Amazon Expedition of the Research Vessel, Alpha Helix (2 months, 1200 miles up the Amazon and Rio Negro Rivers) conducting research on the sloth and other animals, reptiles, and fishes indigenous to the jungle and rivers. A boyhood dream come true!

In order to indicate the diversity of locus and research areas in which I have participated, I shall list here in chronological order some of the national symposia and their topics: Hixon Symposium on Cerebral Mechanisms and Behavior, California In- stitute of Technology, Pasadena (1948); Macy Con- ferences on Problems of Consciousness, New York (1950-54); Brain Stimulation, Univ. of Houston (1956); Current Trends in Psychology, Univ. of Pittsburgh (1956); Motivation, Univ. of Nebraska (1957); Reticular Formation, Henry Ford Hospital, Detroit (1957); Physiology of Emotions, Univ. of Oklahoma Medical School (1957); Sensory Depriva- tion, Harvard Medical School, Boston (1958); Sen- sory Communication, MIT, Boston (1959); Pleasure Centers of the Brain, Tulane Univ. Medical School, New Orleans (1962); EEG and Psychiatric Disor- ders, Duke University, Durham, NC (1962); Percep- tion, Amer. Psychopathological Assn., New York (1963); Deueloping Brain, Galesburg, IL (1963); Brain Mechanisms in Conditioning and Learning,

MIT, Boston (1965); Learning, Memory and Forget- ting Conference, N.Y. Academy of Sciences, Prince- ton, NJ (1965); Plasticity of the Brain, UC Berkeley ( 1965); Neuroph ysiology of Learning, Duke Univer- sity (1966); Temporal Factors in Vision and Visual Perception, Univ. of Rochester, NY (1966); Physio- logical Correlates of Emofion, Johns Hopkins Uni- versity, Baltimore (1968); Limbic System and Auro- nomic Function, Univ. of Toronto (1968); Brain and Behauior, Loyola Univ. Medical School, Chicago (1969); Attention and Brain Function, Duke Univer- sity (1970); Sleep and the Developing Brain, NICHD Conference, Boiling Springs, PA (1970); Behavior and Brain Electrical Activity, Texas Research Insti- tute, Houston, TX (1973); Workshop on Hippocam- pus and Its Functions, MIT sponsored at Woods Hole, MA (1976); Neurobiology of Motivation, Duke University (1979); Neural Mechanisms of Attention, Univ. of Houston, Houston, TX (1979).

Finally, some honors and awards not already mentioned: Honorary Doctorates: Brown University (1958); Wittenberg University (1959), Trinity Col- lege, Hartford, CT (1965), Loyola University, Chicago (19691, Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz, Germany (1977); Elections: American Academy of Arts and Sciences (1965); Foreign Membership in Finnish Academy of Science and Letters (1987). Awards: Distinguished Scientific Contribution, American Psychological Association (1959); Scientific Achievement, California Psycho- logical Association (1977); Distinguished Scientific Achievement, Society for Psychophysiological Re- search (1984); Fellow, UCLA Medical School, “For Great Contributions to Medicine” (1986); Distin- guished Graduate, Department of Psychology, Uni- versity of Iowa (1987); Distinguished Achievement, University of Iowa Alumni Association (1988); Ralph W. Gerard Prize for Outstanding Contributions to Neuroscience, Society for Neuroscience ( 19881, shared with H. W. Magoun; American Psychological Foundation Gold Medal Award for Lifetime Achievement in Psychological Science (1989); Awarded Honorary Lifetime Membership in Depart- ment of Psychobiology, Univ. of California, Irvine, for Outstanding Contributions to its Founding 25 years ago and in the Years since then (1989); Recipi- ent of Herbert Jasper Award and Lecturer, American Electroencephalographic Society, Chicago (1994).


13. Selected publications of Donald B. Lindsley

13.1. Journal articles

Inhibition as an accompaniment of the knee jerk. Amer. J. Physiol., 1934, 109, 181-191. Electrical activity of human motor units during voluntary contraction. Amer. J. Physiol., 1935, 114, 90-99. Myographic and electromyographic studies of myasthenia gravis. Brain, 1935, 58, 470-482. Brain potentials in children and adults. Science. 1936, 84. 354.(with W.H. Sassaman) Autonomic activity and brain potentials associated with “voluntary” control of the pilomotors (MM. Ar- rectores pilorum). J. Neurophysiol., 1938 I, 342- 349. Foci of activity of the alpha rhythm in the human electroencephalogram. J. Exp. Psychol., 1938, 23, 159-171. A longitudinal study of the occipital alpha rhythm in normal children: Frequency and amplitude standards. J. Genet. Psychol., 1939, 55, 197-213. Bilateral differences in brain potentials from the two cerebral hemispheres in relation to laterality and stuttering. J. Exp. Psychol., 1940, 26, 211- 225. (with K.K. Cut&) Electroencephalograms of “constitutionally inferior” and behavior problem children: Comparison with those of normal children and adults. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., Chicago, 1940, 44, 1199-1212. (with F.W. Finger and C.E. Henry) Some physiological aspects of audiogenic seizures in rats. J. Neurophysiol., 1942, 5, 185- 198. (with C.E. Henry) The effects of drugs on behavior and the electroencephalograms of children with behavior problems. Psychosom. Med., 1942, 4, 140-149. Heart and brain potentials of human fetuses in utero. Amer. J. Psychol., 1942, 55, 412-416. (with J.W. Bowden and H.W. Magoun) Effect upon the EEG of acute injury to the brain stem activating system. Electroenceph. Clin. Neuro- physiol., 1949, 1, 475-486. (with L.H. Schreiner, W.B. Knowles and H.W. Magoun) Behavioral and EEG changes following chronic brain stem lesions in the cat. Electroen- ceph. Clin. Neurophysiol., 1950, 2, 483-498.

(with R.W. Lansing and E. Schwartz) Reaction time and EEG activation under alerted and unalerted conditions. J. Exp. Psychol., 1959, 58, l-7. (with E. Donchin and J.D. Wicke) Cortical evoked potentials and perception of paired flashes. Sci- ence, 1963, 141, 1285-1286. (with M. Haider and P. Spong) Attention, vigi- lance and cortical evoked-potentials in humans. Science, 1964, 145, 180-182. (with N.M. Weinberger) Behavioral and electroencephalographic arousal to contrasting novel stimulation. Science, 1964, 144, 1355-1357. (with P. Spong and M. Haider) Selective attentive- ness and cortical evoked potentials to visual and auditory stimuli. Science, 1965, 148, 395-397. (with M. Velasco) Role of orbital cortex in regula- tion of thalamocortical electrical activity. Science, 1965, 149, 1375-1377. (with J.E. Skinner) Electrophysiological and behavioral effects of blockade of the nonspecific thalamo-cortical system. Brain Research, 1967, 6, 95-118. (with G.H. Rose) Development of visually evoked potentials in kittens: Specific and nonspecific responses. J. Neurophysiol., 1968, 31, 607-623. (with J.E. Skinner) Reversible cryogenic blockade of neural function in the brain of unrestrained animals. Science, 1968, 161, 595-597. (with L.G. Fehmi and J.W. Adkins) Electrophysio- logical correlates of visual perceptual masking, in monkeys. Exp. Brain Res., 1969, 7, 299-316. (with M. Schlag-Rey) Effect of prefrontal lesions on trained anticipatory visual attending in cats. Physiol. Behav., 1970, 5, 1033-1041. (with M.L. Kietzman and R.C. Boyle) Perceptual masking: Peripheral vs. central effects. Percept. & Psychophys., 1971, 9, 350-352. (with W.L. Salinger) The suppression-recovery effect and visual adaptation in the cat. Vision Re- search, 1971, 11, 1435-1444. (with H. Anchel) Differentiation of two reticulo- hypothalamic systems regulating hippocampal activity. Electroenceph. Clin. Neurophysiol . 1972, 32, 209-226. (with C. Peck) Average evoked potential correlates of two-flash perceptual discrimination in cats. Vision Research, 1972, 12, 641-652.


(with L.M. Chalupa and H. Anchel) Visual input electrical changes during operant learning in cats to the pulvinar via lateral geniculate, superior and effects of stimulating two hypothalamic-hip- colliculus and visual cortex in the cat. Exp. Neu- pocampal systems. Electroenceph., Clin. Neuro- rol., 1972, 36, 449-462. physiol., 1977, 42, 309-331. (with C. Huang) Polysensory responses and sensory interaction in pulvinar and related posterolat- era1 nuclei in cat. Electroenceph. Clin. Neurophys- iol., 1973, 34, 265-280. (with L.M. Chalupa and H. Anchel) Effects of cryogenic blocking of pulvinar upon visually evoked responses in the cortex of the cat. Exp. Neurol., 1973, 39, 112-122. (with J.E. Gould and L.M. Chalupa) Modification of pulvinar and geniculo-cortical evoked potentials during visual discrimination learning in monkeys. Electroenceph. Clin. Neurophysiol.,l974, 36, 639-649.

(with J.W. Rohrbaugh, K. Syndulko and T.F. San- quist) Synthesis of the contingent negative varia- tion brain potential from noncontingent stimulus and motor elements. Science, 1980, 208, 1165- 1168.

(with A.W. Macadar and L.M. Chalupa) Differen- tiation of brain stem loci which affect hippocampal and neocortical electrical activity. Exp. Neu- rol., 1974, 43, 499-514. (with C.W. Atwell) Development of visually evoked responses and visually guided .behavior in kittens: Effects of superior colliculus and lateral geniculate lesions. Develop. Psychobiol., 1975, 8, 465-478. (with L.M. Chalupa and A.W. Macadar) Response plasticity of lateral geniculate neurons during and following pairing of auditory and visual stimuli. Science, 1975, 190, 290-292. (with J.R. Coleman) Hippocampal electrical correlates of free behavior and behavior induced by stimulation of two hypothalamic-hippocampal systems in the cat. Exp. Neurol., 1975, 49, Part 2, 506-528. (with L.M. Chalupa and R.S. Coyle) Effect of pulvinar lesions on visual pattern discrimination in monkeys. J. Neurophysiol., 1976, 39, 354-369. (with C.L. Wilson and B.C. Motter) Influence of hypothalamic stimulation upon septal and hippocampal electrical activity in the cat. Brain Re- search, 1976, 107, 55-68. (with K.M. Perryman) Visual responses in geniculo-striate and pulvino-striate systems to patterned and unpatterned stimuli in squirrel monkeys. Electroenceph. Clin. Neurophysiol., 1977, 42, 157-177. (with J.R. Coleman) Behavioral and hippocampal

(with T.F. Sanquist, J.W. Rohrbaugh, and K. Syn- dulko) Electrocortical signs of levels of processing: Perceptual analysis and recognition memory. Psychophysiology, 1980, 17, 568-576. (with K.M. Perryman and D.F. Lindsley) Pulvinar neuron responses to spontaneous and trained eye movements and to light flashes in squirrel monkeys. Electroenceph. Clin. Neurophysiol., 1980, 49, 152-161.

13.2. Book and symposia chapters

Electroencephalography. In J. McV. Hunt (Ed.) Personality and the behavior disorders. (Vol. 2, 1037-l 103). New York: Ronald Press, 1944. Emotion. In S.S. Stevens (Ed.) Handbook of experimental psychology. (Chap. 14,473-5 16). New York: Wiley, 1951. Psychophysiology and motivation. In M.R. Jones (Ed.) Nebraska symposium on motivation. (44- 105). Lincoln, NE: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1957. Psychophysiology and perception. In R. Patton (Ed.) The description and analysis of behavior. (48-91). Pittsburgh: Univ. of Pittsburgh Press, 1958. The reticular system and perceptual discrimination. In H.H. Jasper et al. Eds.) International Symposium on Reticular Formation of the Brain. (513-534). Boston: Little, Brown, 1958. Attention, consciousness, sleep and wakefulness. In: J. Field (Ed.) Handbook of physiology: Neuro- physiology, Vol. III, 1553-1593). Washington, D.C.: Amer. Physiological Society, 1960. The reticular activating system and perceptual integration. In: D.E. Sheer (Ed.) Electrical stimulation of the brain. (331-349). Austin, Texas: Univ. of Texas Press, 1961. Common factors in sensory deprivation, sensory

D.B. Lindsley/b&mtational Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 139

distortion, and sensory overload. In: P. Solomon et al. (Eds.) Sensory deprivation. (174-194). Cam- bridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1961. Electrophysiology of the visual system and its relation to perceptual phenomena. In: M.A.B. Bra- zier (Ed.) Bruin and behauior, Vol. I (359-392). Washington, D.C.: Amer. Institute of Biological

Sciences, 1961. The ontogeny of pleasure: Neural and behavioral development. In: R.G. Heath (Ed.) The role of pleasure in behauior. (3-22). New York: Hoeber, 1964. Average evoked potentials - achievements, failures and prospects. In: E. Donchin and D.B. Lindsley (Eds) Aueruge evoked potentials: Methods, results and evaluations. (l-43). Washington, D.C.: NASA, 1969. The role of nonspecific reticula-thalamo-cortical systems in emotion. In: P. Black (Ed.) Physio- logical correlates of emotion. (147-188). New York: Academic Press, 1970. Two thousand years of pondering brain and behaviour. In: H. Messel and S.T. Butler (Eds.) Bruin mechanisms and the control of behuviour. (207-234). Sydney, Australia: Shakespeare Head Press, 1972. Ontogenetic development of brain and behaviour. In: H. Messel and S.T. Butler (Eds) Bruin mechu- nisms and the control of behaviour. (274-325) Sydney, Australia: Shakespeare Head Press, 1972. (with C.L. Wilson) Brainstem-hypothalamic system influencing hippocampal activity and behavior. In: R.L. Isaacson and K.H. Pribram (Eds.) The hippocumpus. (247-277) New York: Plenum, 1975. Mental retardation: Historical and psychophysiological perspective. In: R. Karrer (Ed.) Deuelop- mental psychophysiology of mental retardation. (3-38). Springfield, IL: Thomas, 1976. Neural mechanisms of arousal, attention and information processing. In: J. Orbach (Ed.) Neuropsy- chology after Lushley. (315-407). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1982. Brain potentials and complexity of information processing. In: W.D. Froelich et al. (Eds.) Psycho- logical processes in cognition and personality. (231-245). Nev York: Hemisphere, 1985. Activation, arousal, alertness and attention. In: G.

Adelman (Ed.) Encyclopedia of neuroscience.(3- 6). Boston: Birkhiuser/Springer-Verlag, 1987. Physiological psychology. In: E.R. Hilgard (Ed.) Fifty years of psychology: Essays in honor of Floyd Ruth. (25-57). Chicago: Scott, Foresman, 1988.

14. Other publications cited

Adrian, E.D. The mechanism of nervous action. Philadelphia: Univ. of Pennsylvania Press, 1932. Adrian, E.D. and D.W. Bronk. The discharge of impulses in nerve fibers. Part 2. The frequency of discharge in reflex and voluntary contraction. J. Physiol., 1929, 67, 119-151. Adrian, E.D. and B.H.C. Matthews. The Berger rhythm: Potential changes from the occipital lobes of man. Brain, 1934, 58, 322-351. Anderson, F.M. and D.B. Lindsley. Action potentials from intercostal muscles before and after unilateral pneumonectomy J. Lab. Clin. Med., 1935, 20, 623-628. Berger, H. uber das Elektroenkephalogramm des Menschen. I. Arch. Psychiat. Nerve&r., 1929, 87, 527-570. (See Gloor for English translation of 14 of Berger’s articles from 1929-38). Boring, E.G. A history of experimental psychology. New York: Appleton-Century, 1929. Boring, E.G. The Society of Experimental Psy- chologists, 1904-1938. Amer. J. Psychol., 1938, 51, 410-421. Bradley, C. Schizophrenia in childhood. New York: Macmillan, 1941. Carmichael, L. The new laboratory of psychology at the University of Rochester. J. Exp. Psychol., 1936, 19, 783-788. Clemente, C.D. and D.B. Lindsley (Eds.) Aggres- sion and defense: Neural mechanisms and social patterns. Brain Function, Vol. 5. Berkeley and Los Angeles: Univ. of California Press, 1967. Erlanger, J. and H.S. Gasser. Electrical signs of nervous activity. Philadelphia: Univ. of Pennsyl- vania Press, 1937. French, J.D. (Ed.) Frontiers in brain research. (Tenth Anniversary of the Brain Research Institute at UCLA) New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1962. French, J.D., D.B. Lindsley and H.W. Magoun.


An American contribution to neuroscience: The Brain Research Institute, UCLA 1959-1984. Los Angeles: Brain Research Institute, UCLA, 1984. Fulton, J.F. Muscular contraction and the reflex control of movement. Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1926. Galbraith, G.C., M.L. Kietzman and E. Donchin (Eds) Neurophysiology and psychophysiology: Experimental and clinical applications. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1988. Gibbs, F.A., H. Davis and W.G. Lennox. The electro-encephalogram in epilepsy and in conditions of impaired consciousness. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat. Chicago. 1935, 34, 1133-l 148. Gloor, P. (Translator and Editor) Hans Berger on the electroencephalogram of man. Amsterdam: El- sevier, 1969. (Also, Electroenceph. Clin. Neuro- physiol., 1969, Suppl. 28) Human factors in undersea warfare. A multi- authored book, planned and organized by a Panel on Psychology and Physiology (D.B. Lindsley, Chmn.) of the Committee on Undersea Warfare, National Research Council, Washington, D.C. 1949. 541 p. (Requested by Office of Naval Re- search)

Magoun, H.W. The waking brain. Springfield, IL: Thomas, 1958, 2nd ed., 1963. McGraw, M.B. Growth: A study of Johnny and Jimmy. New York: Appleton-Century, 1935. Moruzzi, G. and H.W. Magoun. Brain stem reticular formation and activation of the EEG. Elec- troenceph. Clin. Neurophysiol., 1949, I, 455-473. Murchison, C. (Ed.) Psychologies of 1925; Psy- chologies of 1930. Worcester, MA: Clark Univ. Press, 1925; 1930. Murchison, C. and M.L. Reymert (Eds) Feelings and emotions: The Wittenberg symposium. Worcester, MA: Clark Univ. Press, 1928. Orton, S.T. Word-blindness in school children. Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., Chicago, 1925, 14, 581- 615. Orton, S.T. Writing and speech disorders of children. New York: Norton, 1937. Pavlov, I.P. Conditioned reflexes. Oxford: Claren- don Press, 1927. (Trans. by G.V. Anrep). Pavlov, I.P. Lectures on conditioned reflexes. New York: International Publishers, 1928 (Trans. by H. Gantt).

Human factors in long-duration space flight. A multi-authored monograph, planned and organized by a Steering Committee (D.B. Lindsley, Chmn.) for the Space Science Board, National Academy of Sciences, Washington, D.C. 1972. 272 p. (Re- quested by National Aeronautics and Space Ad- ministration). Hull, C.L. Hypnosis and suggestibility: An experimental approach. New York: Appleton- Century, 1933.

Reymert, M.L. Feelings and emotions: The Mooseheart-Univ. of Chicago Symposium. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950. Rosenblueth, A., D.B. Lindsley, R.S. Morison. A study of some decurarizing substances. Amer. J. Physiol., 1936, 115, 53-68. Rubenstein, B.B. and D.B. Lindsley. Relation between human vaginal smears and body temperature. Proc. Sot. Exp. Biol. Med.,1937, 35, 618- 619.

Jasper, H.H. and L. Carmichael. Electrical potentials from the intact human brain. Science, 1935, 81, 51-53. Lindsley, D.B. and A.A. Lumsdaine (Eds.) Brain function and learning. Brain Function, Vo1.4. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of Califor- nia Press, 1967, 364 p. Lindsley, D.B. and B.B. Rubenstein. Relationship between brain potentials and some other physiological variables. Proc. Sot. Exp. Biol. Med., 1937, 35, 558-563.

Sanford, EC. Experimental psychology. Boston: Heath, 1898. Seashore, C.E. Autobiography. In: C. Murchison (Ed.) A history of psychology in autobiography, Vol. I, Worcester, MA: Clark Univ. Press, 193,. pp. 225-297. Sears, R.R. Autobiography. In: G. Lindzey (Ed.) A history of psychology in autobiography, Vol. VII, San Francisco: W.H. Freeman, 1980. pp. 394-433. Shapiro, D. et al. (Eds.) Biofeedback and self-control. Chicago: Aldine, 1972. (Reprint of Lindsley, Sassaman article on voluntary control of pilomotors, pp. 26-33).

Luria, A.R. The nature of human conflict. New Spearman, C. The abilities of man. New York: York: Liverwright, 1932. Macmillan, 1927.

D.B. Lindsley/lnternationnl Journal of Psychophysiology 20 (1995) 83-141 141

Spearman, C.E. A new method for investigating the springs of action. In: C. Murchison and M.L. Reymert (Eds.) Feelings and emotions. The Wit- tenberg Symposium, Worcester, MA: Clark Univ.

Press, 1928.

Travis, L.E, Speech Pathology. New York: Apple-

ton-century, 193 1.

Spearman, C. Autobiography. In: C. Murchison (Ed.) A history of psychology in autobiography,

Vol. I., Worcester, MA: Clark Univ. Press, 1930,

pp. 299-33 1.

Travis, L.E. and D.B. Lindsley. The relation of frequency and extent of action currents to intensity of muscular contraction. J. Exp. Psychol., 1931, 14, 359-381. Travis, L.E. and D.B. Lindsley. An action current study of handedness in relation to stuttering. J. Exp. Psychol., 1933, 16, 258-270.

Sperry, R.W. Lateral specialization in the surgi- Tweedie, D.F. Jr. and P.W. Clement (Eds.) Psy-

cally separated hemisphere. In: F.O. Schmitt and chologist pro tern: In honor of Lee Edward Travis.

F.G. Worden (Eds.) The neurosciences: third study Los Angeles: Univ. of Southern California, 1976. program. Cambridge, MA: M.I.T. Press, 1974. Van Wagenen, W.F. and R.Y. Herren. Surgical Stevens, S.S. and H. Davis. Hearing: Its psychol- division of commissural pathways in the corpus ogy and physiology. New York: Wiley, 1938. callosum: Relation to spread of an epileptic attack. Titchener, E.B. A text-book of physiology. New Arch. Neurol. Psychiat., Chicago, 1940, 44, 740- York: Macmillan, 192 1. 759. Titchener, E.B. Experimental psychology, Vol. I, Qualitutiue, Student’s Manual (1901); Vol. II, Quantitutiue (1905), New York: Macmillan.

Woodrow, H. The effect of rate of sequence upon the accuracy of synchronization. J. Exp. Psychol., 1932, 15. 357-379.

life and reflections of a psychologist-psychophysiologist from a personal and historical perspective

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