Several years ago while searching online for papers referencing my work, I ran across a disturbing entry.  I opened a PDF file, a document entitled Flood Transported Quartzites—East of the Rocky Mountains, published in the Journal of Creation and authored by Oard, Hergenrather, and Klevberg.  The authors were affiliated with Creation Ministries, an international organization espousing a literal interpretation of Genesis.  I read the abstract and skimmed the document.  The authors had used one of my reports (among others) about Cretaceous conglomerates to support their belief in a Noachian Flood.  The report was nicely formatted and well written.  The authors had mimicked a peer-reviewed scientific paper but ignored science and peer reviews.  Their predetermined conclusions simply supported their rigid biblical doctrine.

I decided to contact the authors of the screed and let them have it but quickly changed my mind.  They’re just religious fanatics, I thought.  They don’t deserve scientific recognition, even critical recognition.  But I was still troubled they had used a scientific format for religious purposes, to give the false impression they were actually legitimate geologists.  Colleagues at the office told me to blow it off, just forget it.  They all had similar experiences.  Needless to say, I kept thinking about the document, religion, scientific research, and publishing.

I was raised Catholic.  Religion played a moderate role in my early childhood but its importance diminished for me in high school and finally vanished in college.  I have nothing against faith, myth, or ritual.  Religious beliefs are important human necessities and should be cherished, or at least tolerated as long as they don’t interfere with critical thinking and acceptance of the natural laws of the Universe.  The Greeks understood two types of knowledge:  mythos and logos.  Both were essential to them, and neither was considered superior to the other.  For me logos triumphed.  As a youngster I was given a chemistry set, telescope, weather station, and other science-oriented gifts.  I used them enthusiastically.  The scientific method was introduced by teachers during my junior high years, and our English teachers taught us how to write well.  Critical thinking was emphasized in college.  I was taught to understand deterministic and probabilistic solutions to problems and the sources of uncertainty in scientific work.

I spent much of my career as a geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey where manuscripts were subjected to critical review and final approval by a representative of the USGS Director.  Editorial staff finalized internally published reports for style and grammar.  The USGS proudly maintained one of the most thorough scientific and editorial review systems on the planet.  Controversial reports might be criticized, but that’s the nature of science.  In rare cases, we might get external political pressure to retract hot button publications.  In the late 1980s, Donald Hodel, the Interior Department Secretary and Republican hack, threatened to fire the lot of us because our national petroleum assessment contained estimated yet-to-be-discovered petroleum resources that were too low for him.  Our oil and gas estimates were intended to be only a partial rendering of the Nation’s endowment, and the Secretary wanted larger numbers to placate industry.  Politics!  Nothing ultimately came of that incident.

Other memories surfaced, personal experiences with coworkers and colleagues in the earth sciences, researchers of various types, stripes, and eccentricities, from government, academia, and industry.  I interacted with scientists over the years as a supervisor, editor, reviewer, project leader, and coauthor, and I encountered a plethora of personalities and behaviors.  But that’s the case in any field of study, anywhere in life.  One of my early earth science idols was J Harlen Bretz, a legendary geologist who taught for many years at the University of Chicago.  During his long and distinguished career, he published reports on the glacial history of Puget Sound, geology of the Chicago region, and most significantly, origin of the Channeled Scablands of eastern Washington.  His theory that catastrophic floods from Glacial Lake Missoula were responsible for the bizarre landforms of eastern Washington was controversial in the 1920s and 1930s—geologists can be a conservative lot.  His theories were ultimately accepted during his lifetime as additional evidence for catastrophism emerged.  Bretz published relatively few papers during his career, but they were humdingers.  I read his Geology of the Chicago Region (1955) in eighth grade, describing the geology of the Chicago area, Glacial Lake Chicago, and the Ice Age history of the Upper Midwest.  I discovered a reprinted copy of Illinois Geological Survey Report No. 65 at the Geneva Public Library.  His two-part publication was over 200 pages long.  It included numerous colored geologic maps and a wealth of information.  I suspect an aggressive researcher today might squeeze a dozen papers out of Bretz’s monumental work.

The first five or six years as an assistant professor in a tenure-track position at a major university can be brutal.  If tenure is denied by a review committee and the university administration, the poor devil is asked to leave.  I’ve seen tenure-track faculty so burned out by the publication demands, they left before completing their interim status.  More often, tenure is secured, lassitude settles in, and publishing diminishes or ceases.  Even graduate students suffer from the stress of publishing.  I’ve known several over the years that never completed their degrees.  They just didn’t finish their dissertation or couldn’t publish enough papers to satisfy their committee members.  Ted Streleski, a graduate student in mathematics at Stanford, murdered his advisor in 1978 with a ball-peen hammer after 19 years of academic slavery.  He was convicted of 2^nd degree murder and served seven years in prison.  On release, Streleski said he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t kill again and felt his actions were justified.

The USGS was different.  There were no murders that I can recall. Scientists were required to write a work plan every year.  We were evaluated annually by a panel of peers to determine if we were meeting or exceeding research expectations.  In reality, poorly performing scientists could be demoted for poor performance, but it was nearly impossible to get fired.  I do remember one individual, a recently hired geochemist fresh out of grad school that did get fired.  He used his office computer to download child pornography sites.  Several black-suited FBI agents hauled him away one morning.  He later served time in a penitentiary!

USGS management once offered the Myers-Briggs Personality Profile to everyone in the Geologic Division.  Myers-Briggs diagnoses psychological aspects of personality, how an individual perceives the world and makes decisions.  Four major categories or end member types are defined:  introversion versus extraversion, sensing versus intuition, thinking versus feeling, and judging versus perceiving.   Critics have argued about the validity of the M-B profile for years, but it’s a great way to type general traits.  At the end of the exercise, everyone in the office wasted a day discussing their results with friends and colleagues when they could have been talking about rocks!  It did make us think seriously about how we functioned as scientists and interacted with our peers.

The dominant profile type for earth scientists at the USGS was ISTJ, an introverted, sensing, thinking, judging person, reserved, practical, and quiet.  An ISTJ is an organizer, driven to create within an orderly set of rules or guidelines.  She is reliable and dutiful, follows instructions and standards, and is a productive contributor.  Sounds like a typical scientist.  But, in reality, there’s a huge range of behaviors in research, writing, and publishing.  The following is a partial (and very general) list of research personalities from my experience as a colleague and supervisor.  These types can also be applied to industry, where success depends on internal proprietary reports and economic success for the company.  An individual below may belong to more than one type:

Loners are introverted and frequently tackle complex problems.  They prefer to work alone and write single-authored papers.  Loners may be liked or disliked by others and are often the object of envy because of their success.  They have impressive lists of publications and work long hours.  I once knew a (bachelor) academic Loner (at a university) who kept a cot in his office in case he worked late.

Mappers love hiking in the mountains and deserts while solving complex four-dimensional problems dealing with geologic history.  Mappers are often vagabonds and feel at home in a small trailer in remote places for long periods.  They are usually structural geologists who thrive on uncertainty.  They are capable of capturing the complex geologic history of a region through time.  Each may have a different mapping style based on personal prejudices and opinions.

Specialists have a skill that’s in demand, such as invertebrate paleontology, organic geochemistry, or geochronology, and they have an understanding of scientific instruments and computational techniques.  Maybe they run a lab.  Specialists provide valuable data for others.  They author and coauthor numerous papers because of their special skills.

Prolific Authors write a lot of papers.  They may be specialists, mappers, or loners too, but have developed a masterful skill working the system.  I once knew a paleontologist, a microfossil expert, who told me he could write a scientific paper and submit it for review through the peer-review process on the first draft.  He isolated his critters under a microscope by analyzing samples from around the world.  He cranked out papers like widgets.  He was so well organized he had published several hundred reports by the time I met him.

Writers-Blockers are researchers that just can’t sit down to write, or they manage to sit down but then nothing happens.  They may be procrastinators or have issues that interfere with their ability to do science.  Most scientists I knew were excited to write once they solved a problem.  I once supervised a geologist who was unable to write because he was an alcoholic.  That got messy.  I also supervised a geologist who could write well but couldn’t come up with anything to write about.  Tenured faculty may become Writers-Blockers.  They are just burned out and can’t write anymore.  I knew a university professor who had supervised numerous MS students over the years but couldn’t assemble the totality of work into a series of published reports about the geologic history of the Pacific Northwest.  He suffered from terminal fatigue!

Can’t Let Go researchers are usually excellent writers but continue to tinker with reports until they are totally satisfied.  Often, they are never satisfied and have trouble meeting deadlines.  I’ve worked with several of this type.  Once, while editing a book publication, I had difficulty getting a contributing author to finalize a paper.  After waiting (what seemed like) several months for the report, I told the individual to simply give me the report as is.  If it had problems with the geologic interpretation, I jokingly said, another subsequent paper correcting the errors could be written!  A worst case scenario is someone has writers block but can’t let go when they do manage to write.

Smart and Lucky researchers either stumble onto or intentionally discover something very important to the larger community.  It may be a tool that can be used by others, or a method to discover other facts in the field or laboratory.  Their work leads them on a path to national or international success.  Smart and Lucky scientists are often Specialists.  They may be introverts or extraverts.  If they write well, their success is assured.  I’ve known several of this type and had tremendous admiration for them.

Most of my colleagues and geological acquaintances in academia, government, and industry were Hard Workers, average Janes and Joes with a passion for their work.  Most were well published or alternatively successful in the corporate world.  Several were book writers.  That takes a lot of discipline.  Science can be slow, tedious, and repetitious, but Hard Workers just plug away, often take their work home and have successful careers.  They are structured, adaptable, methodical, and logical.

That’s me in a nutshell.  At the time of testing, my strongest MB profile type was ESTJ, rather than ISTJ, indicating I was extroverted and worked well with others.  I was always a schmoozer, disciplined and could write reasonably well.  I was also fortunate.  It was never easy to get a job with the U.S Geological Survey, but I had connections.  I had applied for a position as a mathematical geologist, someone who uses computers and quantitative techniques to solve geologic problems.  I had been at Syracuse University at the time, and my advisors gave me outstanding recommendations.  I later went back to graduate school and finished my PhD.

I was part of a group that assessed yet-to-be-discovered petroleum resources, America’s future endowment of oil and gas.  Half my time was spent dealing with uncertainty, using probability to predict the future.  The rest of my time was free, dedicated to my own interests, to pursue curiosity driven projects.  But projects had to be scientifically useful and dedicated to the overall mission of the USGS.  I often collaborated with specialists who helped me solve problems: geochronologists, mappers, paleontologists, and structural geologists.  I thought up interesting problems but needed others to help me solve them.  For example, I wrote several papers dealing with Cretaceous rocks in Montana.  These rocks contain invertebrate fossils, pollen, and ash beds, and had been thrust eastward on giant slabs of crust.  Bill Cobban identified the clams, Doug Nichols explained that the pollen suggested a Coniacian (85 million years ago) age, John Obradovich found tiny feldspar grains that were also 85 million years old, and Russ Tysdal and Bill Perry identified the structural evolution of the region for me.   The rest was a matter of putting it all together into a coherent story.

When conclusions are reached, an abstract or summary is submitted to a scientific meeting program committee.  Meeting presentations may be posters or talks.  Talks are usually 15-30 minutes in length using Powerpoint displays in a darkened conference room or auditorium depending on the level of interest and size of the audience.  Back in the 1970s and 80s everyone used 35mm slides and Kodak Carousal projectors.  Poster presentations were my favorite venue.  Scrolls with maps, cross sections, tables, and short summaries are unrolled and tacked to large, free standing display panels.  Authors stand by their display for a morning or afternoon session and interact with passersby.  The poster format allows for more intimate interaction and discussion, but there was another reason I loved the poster format.

I suffered from “stage fright”.  During my early years as a scientist, I was scared to death to stand at a lectern in an auditorium full of seemingly knowledgeable strangers.  I’ve always been a bit hyperactive, jumpy, and excitable.  I suffered all the typical symptoms before presentations:  queezy stomach, frequent trips to the bathroom, trembling voice, palpitations, shaking hands.  I made it through each ordeal, but I’m sure my audience could tell I was anxious.  One day I confided in a colleague.  Anny said she had the same problem and suggested taking beta blockers.  Beta blockers limit the effect of stress hormones, the fight-or-flight response of humans to danger.  They are generously used by actors, comedians, and other performers.  It took awhile to get the dosage right, but ultimately I could stand in front of 250 humans in an auditorium and talk in a relaxed and authoritative voice.  I actually developed a disciplined and successful speaking style.  Beta blockers are remarkable.  As a deputy branch chief in the 1990s, I would occasionally have confrontational or otherwise stressful meetings with individuals or groups.  With the help of my Happy Pills, I could breeze through any encounter, sound logical and assured.  I continue to take them daily.

When I prepared for retirement, I thought long and hard about what I would do with myself.  I applied for and was granted an emeritus position with the USGS.  That simply allowed me an affiliation to use for volunteer gigs and to finish reports.  I emptied my office and donated supplies and miscellaneous equipment to others.  I kept my colored pencils because I thought I might like to draw as a creative hobby, and besides, no one wanted them.  Computer graphics had become popular.  The colored pencils still sit in my office at home gathering dust, but I use pads, pencils, and my word processor frequently.  I like to write about nature, my love of geological history, rocks and fossils, rattlesnakes, birds, hiking in remote places, and weather.  I post my stories and recollections at thaddeusdyman.com.  I’m still waiting for Creation Ministries to reference my new work!