David Larbalestier: When Curiosity Makes a Career
By Amy Mast
Magnet Lab Applied Superconductivity Center Director David Larbalestier is viewed by many of his
peers as the leading researcher in the United States, and possibly the world, in the basic research of
practical superconducting materials for magnets and power applications. Over a 35-year career,
he has profoundly influenced the development of high-field magnets for high-energy physics and other
applications, such as magnetic resonance imaging. Among the highlights of his career is his election in 2003
to the prestigious National Academy of Engineering.
Most of us get frustrated when faced with a question we can't
answer. We'll pass it off to someone else, come back to it later, or
abandon it altogether.
David Larbalestier, however, has made a career of tackling
questions that may not be answered in his lifetime, if ever. Those
questions – all related to the phenomenon of superconductivity
– have energized a generation of researchers, because knowing
the answers could transform how the world delivers and stores
power.
David Larbalestier.
Larbalestier directs the Magnet Lab's
Applied Superconductivity Center
(ASC), where he has assembled
a team from senior scientists
on down to graduate and even
undergraduate students to
look at superconductors
from every vantage point.
Superconductors are materials
that conduct electricity with
no resistance. Electricity
comes from electrons traveling
through wire conductors.
Those electrons bumping into each other generate an enormous
amount of heat. With superconductors, however, there is no
jostling, therefore no heat. But there's a catch: superconductors
only behave this way when they are cooled to very low
temperatures. The ASC, among other things, hopes to develop
materials that super-conduct at higher temperatures, with the
"holy grail" of achieving superconductivity at room temperature.
The ASC functions as a division within the Magnet Lab. The group,
including senior colleagues Eric Hellstrom, Alex Gurevich, Peter
Lee and Bill Starch, moved to Tallahassee along with Larbalestier
from the University of Wisconsin around two years ago, with
virtually all of the Center's 20-strong team intact. It's a group
Larbalestier, 65, has built up over a 35-year career as a researcher
and professor – a career that could have easily been in politics or
the humanities. He came of age, after all, in the 1960s.
Bouncing Between Arts and Sciences
The son of a Royal Air Force pilot who'd left school at 14,
Larbalestier was born in 1943 and grew up in postwar London, a
city gravely damaged by World War II.
"During that time," he explained, "life was pretty constricted, and
around me was this idea that education was valuable because,
frankly, you just got a better life."
The postwar British educational system immersed its students
in a rigorous, classical program of studies, and Larbalestier
navigated the UK's equivalent of high school with a focus on the
humanities (particularly language) rather than the sciences. The
complex systems he discovered in his science classes, however, soon had as much appeal for him as the complex systems he'd enjoyed studying in language, and at 16, he turned down a
humanities-track undergraduate spot at Cambridge, one of the
country's elite institutions.
"People wanted me to go on in a humanities vein, but I began
to try and force myself onto a scientific track. Although I didn't
want to go back to ancient languages, I found myself more and
more interested in political, moral and societal questions than
anything else. It took me a while to settle down into anything."
Larbalestier settled on a scientific-track at Imperial College in
London, also an elite institution. His enrollment coincided with
the explosion of music, arts and culture that was London in the
1960s, and he immersed himself in it. "I spent far too much of my
undergraduate career involved in political matters and in music
particularly," he said with a smile. "I think it was only in my senior
year that I really turned on to my work and I became determined
to go and get a Ph.D."
He earned a degree in Physical Metallurgy in 1965, and chose to
conduct his graduate work at the same institution.
Superconductivity Catches Fire
In 1964-1965, during Larbalestier's last year of undergraduate study,
superconductivity was just emerging into public view, based on
the possibilities unlocked by the 1962 discovery at Bell Labs of high
magnetic field superconductivity in what very quickly became
viable superconducting wires of Niobium compounds and alloys.
These possibilities were energizing researchers everywhere.
During Larbalestier first year of graduate school, his adviser, who
studied the properties of alloys (marriages of metals make much
better superconductors than pure elements), was hooked.
"In that first year of graduate school, superconductivity
transformed from this very interesting and more conceptual
physics problem to something entirely new," said Larbalestier.
"People went wild with the practical possibilities."
The phenomenon of levitation, now a commonplace
demonstration of superconductivity's properties, proved
irresistible for Larbalestier. "For me, in those days of course the
levitation only existed as a picture in a book, but (seeing) it was
amazing. I've never lost my enthusiasm for that."
Though he worked dutifully during graduate school, he found
himself unexpectedly bored with the day-in, day-out process
of obtaining data. During his project, his adviser left for an
18-month sabbatical in Berkeley, California, and except for the
occasional letter, Larbalestier was on his own. His work, he said,
attracted little attention from his peers or superiors.
As he navigated his project by himself, Larbalestier began to
notice that something was amiss. The magnet he used for his
superconductivity experiments gave inconsistent readings, and
this inexplicable variation stymied his experiments and caused
him to grow increasingly frustrated.
Once Larbalestier discovered the problem, it changed both
the direction of his graduate work and his attitude toward his
chosen career path. He discovered that the magnet he'd been
using for his experiments was made partly of a particular grade
of stainless steel, one that became more and more magnetic
with each exposure to magnetic fields.
"I began to focus more on the magnetic transformations in the
stainless steel, and I found it very exciting. Frankly, I was bored
stiff with the superconducting part of what was in my thesis,"
Larbalestier said with a laugh.
What was a potentially catastrophic and expensive mistake in
magnet construction became both a learning opportunity and a
chance for Larbalestier to take his thesis in a direction he found
more promising. Armed with his new knowledge, he went to an
Institute of Metals meeting in London, only to find a group of
engineers at the British High Energy Physics lab (Rutherford Lab)
planning to build an eight-tesla (powerful by the standards of
the late 1960s) superconducting magnet swathed in the same
stainless steel that had corrupted his experimental results.
Larbalestier had come prepared to speak on that very topic. "I
got up and gave my little talk, probably very timid, and the guys
said, 'My God, we've got to talk.' That started a relationship with
the high-energy-physics community that has been absolutely
continuous. They have been wonderful supporters for me and
we've been deeply involved ever since," he said.
That intersection of two projects – one by a group of ambitious
researchers, the other by a lone, disaffected graduate student –
was one moment in many combinations of diligence and
serendipity that have served Larbalestier well.
"My whole career has been sort of a lovely random walk, a response
to opportunities that presented themselves at various points in
time. If you're presented with several options and without fail
choose the more difficult one, you will be rewarded for it," he noted.
Blending Research, Teaching
By the mid-1970s, with his thesis and subsequent postdoctoral
work in Geneva and London complete, Larbalestier, his wife
Karen, and their children moved to Madison, Wisconsin, where
he began a 30-year span as an educator and researcher, building
a tight community of scientists and technicians around his work
that has followed him to Tallahassee.
"Even now, there's a transformational aspect to
superconductivity, a wonder, and around you forms a kind of
culture of people who are just trying to do things that haven't
been done before," he said.
On a visit to Hangzhou, China in 1983.
As the years passed, his star rose in Madison, and awards,
honors, and positions of greater responsibility followed. In
1981 he was named the associate chairman of Wisconsin's
department of Materials Science and Engineering. In 1989, he
was named director of the NSF-supported Materials Research
Group in High Temperature Superconductivity, and in 1991 he
was made a full professor and the director of Wisconsin Applied
Superconductivity Center.
All the while, Larbalestier was beginning to appreciate what
for him was becoming an increasingly important relationship
between his research and his teaching.
"What I realized is that you had this wonderful ability to take
freshmen and sophomores while they were still open to this
idea that education could be transformational. Then you could
challenge them, get some of them to come and work in the lab
and do really significant stuff while they were still undergraduates,
and you know, some of these guys stayed with me. Others went
on to Stanford or Berkeley or MIT. The light went on for them and
it was: 'Yes, education is transformational and it's exciting' and
essentially all I had to do was provide a culture and an opportunity
for people like that, and they do wonderful things."
In the winter of 1983, materials scientist Peter Lee, still a principal
investigator on the ASC team, joined Larbalestier. Lee echoes
Larbalestier's focus on blending research with educating
the next generation of scientists, calling the most important
accomplishment of the team "David's 31 Ph.D. graduates."
"David has a remarkable depth of understanding across the broad
range of scientific disciplines that are needed in combination to
make advances in the practical application of superconductors,"
said Lee. "It does not hurt that he is very, very, smart but
combining that with his leadership and personnel skills make it
both an honor and a pleasure to work in the group." Peter Lee
added to David's capabilities in many essential ways, primarily
by advanced electron microscopy and together they worked
out many of the essential keys to pushing today's most practical
superconductors, to their limits. In 1987, superconductivity at
liquid nitrogen temperatures was discovered.
Eric Hellstrom was a newly hired assistant professor of ceramics
and joined in to make and understand these still hotly studied and
not yet understood materials. In the early 1990s, Alex Gurevich
joined too, bringing a quite unique expertise in condensed matter
theory and strong interests in applications of superconductors.
The Move to the Mag Lab
Though the Magnet Lab had offered once before, Larbalestier
and his colleagues at the Applied Superconductivity Center
didn't make the move from Wisconsin to Tallahassee until two
years ago, when they felt that such a move would be compelling
to both ASC and the Magnet Lab.
Pointing out that he is later in his career than his colleagues,
Larbalestier was gratified that the lab agreed to move all of ASC
rather than a handful of "starter" personnel.
"The wonderful thing about this new location is that the synergy
is clearly here. You can see that superconducting magnets made
of the high-Tc ceramics can become the next big thing. We've
had amazing discoveries in the past six months. It's been an
exciting time, even if for some of the younger people, a stressful
one," he said.
Larbalestier's staff outside the ASC.
At FSU, Larbalestier is still teaching for a semester each year
– this term, a mechanical engineering class. He admits that
engaging students in his field can be difficult and laments that
in his current class of 40, there are no female and few minority
students. Somehow, he says, interest in science and engineering
is diminishing and narrowing, just at a time when the grand
challenges of the world demand a much broader technical
understanding of our highly connected and interdependent world.
"I think I was very well educated in the following sense – virtually
all the teachers I had were interested in what they were
teaching, and they wanted to pass on that interest. Students
need to be persuaded to demand a lot of themselves so that
their horizons expand, and not shrink in the crucial 5 to 10 years
after graduation, when self teaching is the principal route to
keeping fresh and up to date."
FSU, he says, is a "university with aspirations," a place where
he feels that both lab and university leadership are willing to
pursue meaningful, wide-ranging projects.
"This is an open, exciting culture that is actively trying to get
more and more people to come and use the facilities and to
collaborate. It's a very enviable environment," he noted.
And what of the original question, the superconductivity
answer Larbalestier and his team have been chasing all these
decades? Will he mind if a room-temperature superconductor is
discovered long after he and his team are gone?
"If this discovery takes place, it is going to happen by accident,
or it's going to happen by a stubborn and very individual act of
invention on the part of one or two people," he said. "I'd love to
see that, but on another level, I wouldn't mind if I don't, because
I think the very complexity of life is one of the things that,
looking back on life, is an opportunity for wonder."