From the Editor- October 2012

Fossil is a Part of A Rock

The first idea I ever had for a lifetime occupation was to be an archaeologist; this was way before Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park and Barney. Shortly though I learned that in order to make a living at this occupation (that pesky accountant gene I spoke of last month), I realized that I would have to be exceedingly lucky to become famous for some great find. As I approached college age and given an interest in chemistry, I very briefly considered a career as a pharmacist until my older brother pointed out that I might be bored “counting pills all day”. Fortunately, I found my calling thanks to an undergraduate advisor who was a geologist and to a choice between geology and astronomy for a physical science sequence. The former was an answer to a prayer as geology appealed to my interest in combining my orientations to science and the humanities.

The title of this column is borrowed from my first industry mentor, Doris Malkin Curtis. As a summer intern at Shell’s Bellaire Research Center in the Mid Obscene, i.e. the 70’s, I was fortunate to work amongst some incredible giants: Peter Lucas, my first supervisor, Bert Bally who certified my summer project as useful, Sig Snelson, creator of 1:1 structural cross sections, Frank Mango, a polymer chemist who became a petroleum geochemist, and Roger Swanson, the father of sample examination. Doris though, is the one who got me started along the path of involvement in research and technical organizations. Already a member of Sigma Xi, AAPG and SEPM from university days, Doris saw to it that Igot on committees, initially in the area of membership and research.

Graduate influences were Dr. Ralph Langenheim, my thesis supervisor and field geologist, who knew he wanted to become a paleontologist since the age of nine and Dr. Albert Carozzi, a wellknown expert on microfacies and sedimentary petrology. Ralph taught me how to interpret what I saw in the outcrop and to sample for success in the laboratory. He was also was my first editor. His advice, that “even eternal vigilance” might not ensure that every mistake in a manuscript would come to light, reminds me to this day that we are none of us perfect. I became his first Master’s candidate to present their thesis at a national meeting (GSA 1977 in Seattle). Therein, I could compare my results, that facies varied with the Lithostrotionellid coral faunal content and that faunal content influenced the microfacies, to the work of others. My conclusion was in direct contrast to another young speaker, a student of another famous biofacies professor, who concluded that the even more fragile Bryozoans in his rocks were insensitive totheir environment. Another way to say this is a column title about fossils from the New York Times article by James Carroll (June 2012) — “Nature’s Masons Do Double Duty as Storytellers.”  Wish I had said that.Another great life experience is to recall that we had to learn to acquire evidence and to compile the elements of context that help us make predictive conclusions. One I like to tell occurred in grad school. My office happened to have the vending machines right outside it and so became a sort of gathering place. One night a few grad students who had been at work in our respective offices, were told by a fellow student that there was a cadaver under study in a lab on the third floor of our building. Three of us crept up to peek into the room. When the TA saw us, he invited us to view the cadaver.

In an open zippered clear body bag, one could see that the body was missing a lower arm and a lower leg, presumably in use elsewhere. The geology grad student, who’d brought us up there, a rather pompous sort I recall, announced “I can tell by the pelvic structure of this cadaver that it is of a Woman!” To which the TA came over and stipulated “However, I can tell by the phallus that this is the body of a Man!” So you see there is evidence and there is evidence.

Later, once again I came under the influence of Rufus LeBlanc, a sedimentologist who trained generations of Shell geoscientists. It was a mutual admiration thing. He believed that I would / could help him realize his dream of seeing facies and geometries on seismic as he knew them from the field. And for my part, Rufus (“The Pope”) would return from a field trip and through a simple diagram place each and every outcrop into a context so that we could all appreciate the big picture—and especially what was not supported by evidence but had to be construed.

I think it is interesting in an era of paleontological staff minimalization, that the public is to be treated to a new resource that can inspire and educate us on the variety of life forms and environments that preceded ours. What I love most about the New Hall of Paleontology at the Houston Museum of Natural Science is the notion that it belongs to all of us. If you missed Dinosaur Discovery last month, then be sure to see Conservation Quest which premiered on September 20th for a lot of evidence and a ton of context. It is never too late to discover your closet archaeologist/ paleontologist.

To this day, I relish the work and personal relationships I have had with Paleontologists. Some of my favorites to whom I owe much are Ed Picou, retired Shell for his example and style; Mike Nault, Applied Biostratigraphix for his passion and friendship; Art Waterman, PaleoData for his steadfastness; Ron Waszczak, ConocoPhillips for his mentorship and caring; and Andy Bowman, Statoil for his willingness to try. Thanks to you all.