Abstract
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Bonnie died 8 days into what would be her final “go” at retiring. She knew how to do a lot of things well—but retiring was not one of them. She tried a few times in recent years to finish her stellar career and, thankfully, there were parties, roasts, and scholarships established in her honor. Bonnie just did not know how to quit caring about what she saw as the ultimate solution to the HIV/AIDS pandemic: a preventive HIV vaccine.
Never did we think she would disappear off the scene one afternoon, while enjoying the gorgeous, crystal-blue waters of her beloved Aruba, with her dear friend Linda Baum. On that morning, she told her husband, Don, that they would have the broccoli with their dinner and then wished him well on his routine walk. Uncanny last words to her devoted partner of more than 51 years, whom she adored. Then, shortly after entering the sea with the other remarkable creatures, she had a massive heart attack, and left us.
Just a week beforehand, she sent an email reporting that she had handed over her badge after 43 years of dedicated public service to the National Institutes of Health (NIH). It must have felt like an amputation of sorts, not having access to decades of files, folders, emails, etc. Many of us were asking ourselves: What would we do without her sharp questions that few others were insightful enough to conceive, never mind have the nerve to ask? Who would uphold the critical cause of all the young scientists and suggest with whom they should collaborate? Who could replace her encyclopedic memory of seemingly every relevant journal article published about this virus that she was so determined to beat? Who would sustain the sense of urgency that Bonnie brought to nearly every conversation?
Her career began in 1963 when she studied botany at the University of Illinois, which made perfect sense for an Illinois farm girl, eldest of seven siblings. Moving with her husband to Stanford in 1967, she began her graduate work in medical microbiology and while working as a research assistant for Ruth Dole. Then from 1970 to 1975, Bonnie earned her PhD in biological sciences in a joint program run by Cornell University Medical College and Sloan-Kettering. Upon graduation, she went to the NIH to do a post-doc at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID), where she rapidly moved through the ranks to the position of Senior Staff Fellow in the Laboratory of Microbial Immunity. At the NIH, Bonnie was one of the first people to use a flow cytometer and became an expert in cell phenotyping and basic immunology. After a 2-year sabbatical at the Basel Institute for Immunology in Switzerland, Bonnie returned to the NIH, then working at the National Cancer Institute (NCI) in Frederick, MD. While at the NCI, Bonnie made seminal contributions to the field of basic T cell immunology as a senior investigator.
Yearning to make a greater impact on the field, she moved to the Division of AIDS, in the nascent vaccine branch of extramural NIAID, where, as a program officer, her immunology expertise was vital to the NIH's mission of developing an HIV vaccine. It was her time in this division that Bonnie began to establish her legacy of guiding the research and investigators in pursuit of an HIV vaccine. She spent the last 22 years of her career at the Office of AIDS Research, Office of the Director, where she served as the lead for the HIV/AIDS vaccine section and was instrumental in advancing the NIH's AIDS vaccine program in countless ways. She selflessly lent her expertise, wisdom, advice, and support to numerous vaccine trials, including RV144; pediatric candidates; trials employing passive immunization; the National Primate Research Centers specific pathogen-free colonies; and she helped develop a vaccine scholars program to train the next generation of promising scientists.
Bonnie served on review boards for the World Health Organization, European Commission, Canadian Institutes of Health Research (CIHR), and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. She published more than 125 articles and chapters, received regular performance awards during her tenure at the NIH, and among her many awards she won the 2003 Alumnus Award from Weill-Cornell Medical College.
Bonnie was a force; even into her 70s, there was no sign of her backing-down from her burning desire to discover the overdue mysteries of the human immune mechanisms that can protect against HIV. Developing an HIV vaccine remained an emergency for her, especially when it came to one that could protect infants. She was on top of anything that was genuinely new in the field and dreamed of applying it to protect what some affectionately called “Bonnie's babies.” A fire burned in her voice when she would talk about HIV immunology and the latest scientific findings, which was pretty much always a part of any conversation with Bonnie.
Bonnie was a devoted wife, mother, and grandmother, and she readily shared the joy of these important roles, which were never totally disconnected from her stellar scientific life. Bonnie had so much to offer to her family, friends, and colleagues alike, and she did so with genuine warmth and a generosity of spirit. With great affection, Bonnie talked about her daughter and son all the time, and with equal pride for them both. As her daughter Cindy shared at Bonnie's Memorial service, “My Mom was scary smart.” Thanks to Skype, Bonnie and her husband met their second grandson, Nathaniel, brother of their first and famous Cash, born to their son Daniel and his wife Jessica, sadly just 3 days before her startling departure.
Interestingly, many recall Bonnie for her relentless questioning, which was not merely to satisfy her curiosity, but often changed the direction of the field. Colonel Nelson Michael tells the story of how Bonnie once mentioned the importance of antiphagocytic antibody functions which she correctly predicted were going to be a more major discovery from the RV 144 Thai HIV vaccine efficacy trial than most scientists predicted. “Bonnie pushed all of us to ensure that these particular assays were prioritized to the top of the list which ultimately bore fruit and substantially changed the way that we approach HIV vaccine development,” Michael said.
Scientific giants are seldom unpresuming, but Bonnie was. She was also truly objective about the science. For Bonnie Mathieson, it was all about the data; all about following the evidence; and all about your work. One colleague said it best: “Bonnie listened to all voices, both loud and soft. She was an equal opportunity supporter, teasing-out what was important from her many rapid-fire conversations.” With vigor, she combed through posters, articles, and presentations as if on a treasure hunt; surely the answer was in there somewhere and she would ceaselessly put the pieces together. Bonnie was unapologetically single minded in her pursuit of the science that will one day prove HIV a surmountable enemy.
Bonnie's unpresuming style, which was always “other”-focused, simply asked that we all do our very best to find a vaccine to stop HIV. And in doing so, she insisted on bringing-up the ranks. Bonnie was a true inspiration to women scientists and took the time to hear what all early career investigators were thinking and made certain that they received individual credit for their work. Bonnie was not a principal investigator per se, but she was an available and important mentor to many. She was ever-watchful of the young scientists whom she encouraged, inviting the notion that they might have the next big breakthrough. Since her passing, many young investigators have expressed how she invigorated them, made them feel noticed, and assured them that their work really mattered. Their mutual commitment to the search for a vaccine is one of the many gifts that Bonnie left behind, which will undoubtedly bear fruit in the years to come.
Jean Patterson recently reflected on her recent 5 years of working closely with Bonnie. She directly attests to the impact that Bonnie had on so many lives and on so many levels. “Bonnie was brilliant, provocative, hard-working and tough as nails; but also, kind, generous, giving and REALLY FUN. Bonnie was my sounding board, my inspiration and was always there for me, and I cherished her.”
In what would be Bonnie's last email to me, sent on New Year's Eve, her inimitable hope shone through as she quoted Tom Friedman saying: “Pessimists are usually right, and optimists are usually wrong, but all the great changes have been accomplished by optimists.” Then she added: “I'll swing with the optimists!”
As a tribute to Bonnie, let us all “Swing with the optimists!” as we work to overcome the obstacles to discover a safe and effective preventive HIV vaccine.