Ron's Papers 



Daniel R. Cooley 



Department of Plant, Soil, & Insect Sciences, University of Massachusetts 



There was no doubt in my mind that Ron Prokopy 

 would hve until he was at least 90. I also knew he 

 wouldn't stop his life's work, ever. And now that only 

 one of those certamties has proven true, I can't yet 

 see how our world of New England apple growers and 

 researchers, the world of insect ecologists, our univer- 

 sity, or my own world will function in quite the same 

 way. Half the time I forget that he isn't home in 

 Conway, isn't at his Femald Hall office, and isn't check- 

 ing curculio traps. 



Maybe as a way to make my mind adjust, I've 

 been focusing on just one facet of his life. I've been 

 wondering how Ron Prokopy ever managed to write 

 all those papers, over 450 publications, an almost in- 

 comprehensible number. As the main form of academic 

 research currency, the number of publications a per- 

 son writes gives other academics a quick read on the 

 stature and impact a scientist carries. It's a career 

 batting average, and Ron was a Ted Williams when it 

 comes to writing. Very good scientists would be happy 

 to write one or two hundred articles, chapters and other 

 pieces over a career. And just as every hit Williams 

 got represented hundreds of swings and hours of prac- 

 tice, every article a scientist writes represents hours of 

 grant writing, lab and field experiments, data analysis 

 and finally, the actual writing. 



Naturally, some scientists cook the books a bit, ac- 

 cepting partial credit for papers to which they may have 

 made little or no real contribution. It's like Enron re- 

 porting millions in imaginary earnings so that the com- 

 pany will look much more substantial. In science, this 

 sort of "pub padding" can make author lists that read 

 like an Old Testament genealogy. Ron never indulged 

 in this sort of publication inflation, and he contributed a 

 meaningful part in any research that carried his name, 

 making his accomplishment all the more remarkable. 



So I wonder, how did he do it? Perhaps it was 

 because he frequently had trouble sleeping, and would 

 not so much complain as comment on the fact that he 

 had gotten only 4 hours of sleep the previous night. 

 Getting along on a sleep regimen that could crack hard- 

 ened spies certainly could explain some of Ron's pro- 



ductivity. 



He did need an occasional recharge. When we 

 were out on the road, between orchards he might say 

 that he really needed a little rest, if I didn't mind, and 

 he would doze off for 10 or 15 minutes. He revived, 

 dragging his palm from forehead to chin as if it would 

 wipe away the last vestiges of his nap, and emerging 

 from his pupae-like slumber he'd launch full flight into 

 an intense discussion concerning how we might arrange 

 tests in the next orchard to serve multiple research 

 tasks. Couldn't we use Broderick's old Mac block for 

 the curculio work, and the maggot work, and the fly- 

 speck work, making data collection visits even more 

 productive? Ron lived with a New England farmer's 

 kind of efficiency, carrying lettuce and carrot lunches 

 in washed and re-used plastic bags, sporting an eclec- 

 tic wardrobe of Goodwill clothes, and always trying to 

 squeeze every bit of data possible from an experiment. 



While Ron always got the most from a dollar, I'm 

 not sure his Yankee frugality always contributed to re- 

 search efficiency. He grew up on a Connecticut farm, 

 and eeking a living from rocky New England soils means 

 a lot of getting by and making do. For better or worse, 

 he carried those habits into his research projects. And 

 since the sort of research and teaching he did extended 

 beyond brick and ivy to the orchards of New England, 

 Ron and his lab group drove hours to and from research 

 sites every day. The several vehicles needed for this 

 were much like his clothes, a sort of Goodwill collec- 

 tion, including such classics as a vintage Korean War 

 surplus MASH ambulance, a banana yellow Ford 

 Torino with vestigial brakes, and cabin-cruiser like sta- 

 tion wagons with rotted floors, all vehicles that had been 

 rescued from the scrap-heap. They had far outlived 

 their usefulness in polite society but could still carry 

 people, tools and various objects covered with sticky 

 goop around the state. I don't think Ron could fully 

 conceive of buying a new car, or even a late-model 

 used car, not when the same money could be used for 

 an extra summer assistant. In fact, I think the rusty 

 roof of a 10 year old LTD appealed to Ron not only 

 because it was cheap, but because it said to growers 



Fruit Notes, Volume 69, Spring, 2004 



