Friday, June 12, 2009
Scientific work is just part of accomplishments
Emily Paine Carter is columnist So Salem. You can contact her at 981-3430 or via e-mail.
Emily Paine Carter
Recent columns from Salem, Glenvar and western Roanoke County
June is for Dads and grads. And George Lester is distinguished in both categories.
Like most, he's delighted by Fathers' Day "family times" -- but the chemist (U. Kentucky Ph. D.) can also be called A Daddy of the Catalytic Converter.
"One of the fathers," he emphasized, citing other scientists and even sales reps. "No 'Lone Ranger' effort." (He's pretty good at humility, too.)
Yet he was so keen to solve the auto-exhaust problem that he worked on his own time. As a recent Berea College magazine notes, his work on a catalyst component earned him his first U.S. patent (1963). (He's a 1995 Berea Distinguished Alumnus.)
The federal Clean Air Act (1967) prompted his then-employer Allied Chemical Company to shift its catalytic-converter development efforts into a higher gear. So George was summoned and told that they needed "a real SOB" (not Son-of-Boss) to lead the program. "They chose me!" he laughed; today, he hardly seems the type.
So those of us who breathe do so more easily. The American Chemical Society gave him its 2002 Murphree award and stated the converters have helped reduce auto exhaust pollutants by 99 percent since 1975.
The catalysts also serve air- and spacecraft, the military, and many safety and industrial uses.
But wait, there's more: he's earned 46 "hard-to-come-by" patents, published over 50 technical articles and served on a White House committee on greenhouse gases.
So, a long way from his humble roots: His mom replaced his dad as principal of a West Virginia coal-camp town's three-room school; the family needed the higher income Dad could earn in the mines. As George told Berea, "my dad hated every day he worked in the mines, and... [threatened to] kill any of his sons who ever worked one day [there]." College seemed a good idea to George.
After a full career he "retired" to consulting -- but does "less since discovering golf." He's still a Northwestern University adjunct professor, collects art and enjoys theater, symphony and opera (past Opera Roanoke board member).
So how did George land in Salem?
"My heart brought me," he said. He met Patricia (Pat) at a wedding in Ohio in the late 1980s. "She said she'd go anywhere as long as it was in Salem!" He gave up trying to convince her to move; they married (1993); he commuted from Chicago until his 1996 "early out."
Salem met his location criteria anyhow: near a major university, good flight conditions (he pilots a four-passenger plane), and airline connections to clients and nationally scattered family events. (Hey, it's the kind of place where -- when needing a catalytic converter for a photo-op -- he could easily ask fellow Salem Presbyterian Carlos Hart of Hart Motor Co.)
His very extended family is precious, and he -- proud dad and granddad -- emailed fine achievements of each. Pat is a retired Vinton teacher; her daughter Cindy Glass seems "like one of his own" even though she was already a Harvard undergrad when they met (Salem High grad Cindy also has an MBA from U.Va.). George has four children by his first wife: Julia, Kay, Brooke and Dave. Grandkids: Rachel, Joshua, Melissa, Stephanie, Andrew Jacob and Carina.
George counts himself "darn lucky" -- even divinely guided to right places, time, skills and colleagues. And he's glad that Pat stood by her "Salem guns." So are we, George; so are we.
