Little, Clarence Cook, Sc.D.(CTR Scientific Director, 1954-1971)
Clarence Cook Little was born in Brookline, Massachusetts, on October 6, 1888, and died at the Maine Coast Memorial Hospital on December 22, 1971. During the intervening years, as one obituary put it, Dr. Little "was rarely unembroiled in controversy."
Little was the ultimate Boston Brahmin. His father, James Lovell Little, was the great-grandson of Revolutionary War General Solomon Lovell, who led the ground forces of the ill-fated Penobscot Expedition of 1779. His mother, the former Mary Robbins Revere, was the great-granddaughter of Paul Revere. Revere, in addition to his famed midnight ride, had served as Lovellâ€™s chief of artillery during the Penobscot Expedition and been unjustly accused of cowardice. Both families also boasted many other luminaries. James was descended from Mayflower passenger Richard Moore and Mary was the only daughter of Edward Hutchinson Robbins Revere, who had volunteered for the Civil War in his mid-30s and died at Antietam. The marriage of James Lovell Little and Mary Robbins Revere on January 21, 1874, thus represented both a union and a reunion for two of New Englandâ€™s most notable lines.
James Lovell Little had studied architecture at Harvard but quit at the insistence of his father to go into the family business, James L. Little & Company, dry goods commission merchant that represented the Pacific Mills of Lawrence. He proved successful in business, but missed the creativity of architecture and became an avid naturalist in his spare time, breeding cocker and clumber spaniels and dachshunds, and becoming the first American to breed Scottish terriers. When the firm was dissolved in 1883, he essentially retired to devote his time to his avocation. The youngest of his four children became fascinated with his fatherâ€™s hobby and it would shape his life.
Clarence Cook Little received his first pair of pigeons when he was three years old. By the age of seven had received a prize for successfully breeding them and had turned his attention to studying and breeding mice. It was the start of a pursuit that would become a lifelong fascination.
Despite this studious side, there was nothing narrow about the interests of "Pete" Little, as he was known to his friends. By the time he entered Noble and Greenough prep school, he had blossomed into a tall, outgoing athletic young man with a wide range of interests. He remained fascinated by scientific research but also found time to captain the schoolâ€™s track team.
He continued his education at Harvard, where he also demonstrated an impressive breadth of talents and interests. He served as captain of the Harvard track team, capturing the intercollegiate shot put title in 1909 and showing talent as a long jumper, and also belonged to the Hasty Pudding and Dickey clubs. At the same time, his genetic research on mice had begun in earnest.
Littleâ€™s mentor at Harvard was renowned geneticist William E. Castle. After taking an undergraduate course from Castle in 1907, he expressed an interest in doing research on genetic inheritance in dogs. Castle told him that dogs bred too slowly for an effective study of the question and that he should instead work with mice. It was a pivotal moment in his career. Little retained an interest in dogs and would eventually write a book about canine color inheritance. But mouse research â€“ and the mice themselves â€“ was to become the hallmark of his career, and when he turned his attention to cancer research, he never wavered in his conviction that cancer was genetic in origin and could best be studied by means of mouse research.
Little earned an undergraduate degree in zoology and biology in 1910 and a doctorate of science (Sc. D.) in 1912. On May 27, 1911, he married Katharine Day Andrews of Brookline in front of a "fashionable gathering of well-known Brookline and Back Bay people." The young couple immediately began a family and by 1915, they were the parents of two sons and a daughter. Little also suffered personal loss during these years when both of his parents died in August of 1914.
By this time, Littleâ€™s research on mice was showing considerable promise. In 1913, he and J. C. Phillips published an article entitled "A Cross Involving Four Pairs of Mendelizing Characters in Mice" in the journal American Naturalist. The following year, he published another article, entitled "A possible Mendelian explanation for a type of inheritance apparently non-Mendelian in nature," in Science.
Little had by this time become convinced that mouse research held the key to unlocking the secrets of heredity and genetics. In particular, as geneticist James F. Crow explains, "Little was ahead of his time in realizing the importance of inbred lines and showed great zeal in developing them. The two most famous lines, still highly popular, came from his early work. The DBA (dilute brown) strain was developed while he was still at Harvard, and the C57BL (black) shortly afterward. The mouse was particularly good for developing inbred lines."
Little was able to establish the value of research on inbred mice when began working with another Harvard researcher named Edward E. Tyzzer. Tyzzer had been studying the acceptance and rejection of tumor transplants in mice, and when the two men joined forces they were able to establish that transplants from inbred mice to hybrid mice were successful, while the reverse transplants were rejected. This was a significant breakthrough and the publication of their results in 1916 announced Little as a rising star in the field of genetics.
While working on his doctorate and raising a colony of mice, Little served as private secretary to Harvard President A. Lawrence Lowell, who was also a native of Brookline and graduate of Noble and Greenough, and a member of the famed Lowell family (his siblings included poet Amy Lowell and astronomer Percival Lowell). After earning his doctorate, Little began doing post-graduate research in comparative pathology at the Harvard Medical School. Meanwhile he was also making a name for himself as a public speaker with the ability to make scientific research accessible to the layman â€“ and to express lively views on a wide variety of topics. In addition, his skill as an administrator earned him an appointment as a dean at Harvard.
During World War I, Little served as a Major in the U.S. Army Signal Corps. He then spent several years doing research at the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory in Long Island. But the lure of academia drew him back and in 1922, Clarence Cook Little accepted the post of President of the University of Maine, making him at thirty-three the nationâ€™s youngest university president.
He spent three years in the position, and during these years he again showed a knack for juggling many interests. One of his demands when he accepted the presidency was university funding for a research facility in Bar Harbor, and Little continued to do lab research. As an administrator, he proved innovative, introducing the tradition of freshman week, which proved so successful that it was adopted by many other universities. But he was also outspoken, and he carried on a public feud with Maine Governor Percival B. Baxter over funding for the school.
After three years, Little was named president of the University of Michigan. He was reportedly the youngest man ever to head a major American institute of higher learning and his tenure would prove to be one of the most tumultuous periods in the schoolâ€™s history. From the moment C. C. Little arrived in Ann Arbor in the fall of 1925, he began proclaiming that the sky was falling in. "We cannot train a man in the development of his scholastic powers," he declared in his inaugural address, "in the atmosphere of a veritable Gettysburg of social activities where, after a prolonged artillery preparation of jazz and fast traveling joy rides, a â€˜Pickettâ€™s charge of dates,â€™ and petty but absorbing gossip is in progress. Over-emphasis on the intemperance in automobiles, use of liquor and petting among students of our universities must be stopped because it is not the time or the place to investigate or decide these matters."
The new university president described himself as a friend of intercollegiate athletics. That declaration was hardly a surprise, coming as it did from the onetime captain of the Harvard track team, but his endorsement was curiously tepid. "Eighty thousand watch a football game and less than 500 attend a lecture by the worldâ€™s greatest living authority on the origin of atolls," Little noted, before adding, "It is not right; it is not just; but it is human nature."
He accepted college sports, he went on to explain, because the alternatives were so much worse. "In the day of the highly explosive mixture of youth, gasoline and liquor borne swiftly on balloon tires to remote retreats; in an era of college comic publications and terpsichorean efforts, skating on the thinnest possible ice of decency," said Little, "it would take Hercules himself to guarantee a fair substitute, and I believe he cheerfully would admit that the Augean Stables were, in comparison, an early season practice game."
Over the next few months, Little continued to express his views on a wide range of social issues. He called enforcement of the countryâ€™s prohibition laws an "international joke" and threatened to send faculty member to monitor fraternity house activities. He characterized higher education for women as having been unsuccessful. At the annual convention of the Michigan Public Health Association in Lansing, he advocated sterilization "to prevent the mental defectives and children of criminal tendencies from being born." He also favored birth control, declaring, "There is a need to slow down the production of children to a point where the child can be guaranteed proper care and education. To produce to the point where we cannot adequately care for them is un-Christian. â€¦ In the slums of some of the big cities the children are worse off than in the so-called barbarous foreign countries. These are dumped out to die or survive and to meet possible mental and moral depravity."
These comments drew widespread press coverage, and Little was deluged with angry letters and protests. But he remained unapologetic and over the next few years, his outspoken ways continued. He frequently reiterated his advocacy of eugenics and birth control. When the state legislature did not appropriate as much money for the University of Michigan as Little expected, he denounced the governor, the legislators, and the "whining taxpayers." When a 1927 car accident killed one student and injured several others, he threatened to ban all undergraduates from using automobiles.
That same year, he told a stunned crowd at the annual meeting of the Association of American Colleges that universities needed to weed out many of their students after two years. "Give the mediocrities," he proposed, "a certificate at the end of two years â€“ and then out with them! There are too many alert and constructive minds among out youth to allow mental loafers and mediocre personalities to continue as students during a full four year period. Recognize that a student whose intense and undying interest in some form of intellectual achievement has not been aroused is a very different type of material from a student who has been aroused. Provide, therefore, at the end of the sophomore year general examinations to determine, in so far as possible, whether permanent interest really has been aroused in the mind of the student. Students failing to show such interest should, except in very unusual cases, be given a certificate for their first two yearsâ€™ work and be discouraged from spending more of their own or the facultyâ€™s time on further efforts toward a college education."
Littleâ€™s campus administration also proved controversial. His efforts to bring in new faculty members ruffled feathers and led to a number of departures. There was also opposition on campus to some of his other projects, including his plans to launch a ten-year program of alumni activity, to open a new college, and to make a tax survey of the state.
Within three years, the perpetual storm of controversy surrounding the outspoken Little had had a polarizing effect. "His emphatic views," noted one reporter, "have divided the campus. One group is as vigorously pro-Little as the other is hostile. Few took a middle ground."
The end of his tenure came shortly after the Washtenaw Tribune ran an article predicting an "exodus" of prominent faculty members if Littleâ€™s presidency continued. Just as ominously, the article noted that the board of regents had grown tired of the school being "much in the public eye" as the result of the "rather iconoclastic views" of its president. Under pressure, Little presented his resignation to the board on January 21, 1929, effective at the end of the school year.
Typically, though, he did not leave Ann Arbor quietly. Five hundred students attended a banquet to pay tribute to the departing president, who told them, "A few stones have been cast at this concrete head of mine but they have bounced off. No damage has been done and if I have been able to stir in you a spirit of opposition to blind acceptance of old ideas, I am happy." Little also delivered the commencement address to that yearâ€™s class of graduates and used it to urge them to breathe "the dawn wind of adventure as well as the gasoline vapor of a dulled civilization." He also used the forum to express his views on a wide range of topical matters, including making another appeal for birth control and eugenics. At the end of his final speech as the schoolâ€™s president, "the 5,000 Michigan men and women who jammed the auditorium roared their approval."
Clarence Cook Littleâ€™s departure from Ann Arbor also saw the end of another phase of his life. Throughout his stay in Michigan, rumors had swirled that he was having an affair with a student. In June of 1929, Little sued for a divorce from his wife of eighteen years. According to his petition, his wife had refused to live with him for the past ten years. Once the divorce was finalized, Little was remarried to Beatrice Johnson in 1930 and the union produced two more children.
When the school year ended, Dr. Little returned to Bar Harbor, Maine, and plunged back into genetic research. During his time in Michigan, Little had made many rich and influential friends, among them Edsel Ford and Hudson Motor Car head Roscoe B. Jackson. The two men were among the many prominent donors who helped fund a new laboratory to be headed by Little. Before it could open, Jackson was killed in an automobile accident and accordingly the research facility was named the Roscoe B. Jackson Memorial Laboratory.
When the laboratory opened in the fall of 1929, it appeared the funding was in place for Little to do what he had dreamed of: heading a team of scientists that would penetrate the mysteries of the genetic code and help eradicate diseases like cancer. He hired a staff of seven scientists who shared his vision for the new laboratory. According to James Crow, "[Little] left each researcher free to sink or swim and, although he occasionally gave advice or criticism, for the most part his policy was one of benign neglect. Although the researchers worked separately, there was nonetheless a policy that all the work was to be discussed openly. The Laboratory members were very close socially; for example, they had a monthly party in which all, with their families, participated."
At the same time, Little had accepted a half-time position as managing director of the American Society for Control of Cancer (ASCC), the predecessor of the American Cancer Society. The ASCC had its headquarters in New York City, so Little began commuting there from Maine for several days each week. It was a brutal schedule, but the kind of challenge on which he thrived. More important, he was now in position to search for the cure to cancer and to raise much-needed awareness of the disease and of the need for research.
A chirpy article in Time magazine on October 21, 1929, neatly captured the optimism that greeted his arrival in Bar Harbor and New York City. "Everywhere that Dr. Clarence Cook Little (Sc. D.) goes," it proclaimed, "there go his mice and Scotch terriers."
Within a few days of the publication of the Time article, however, the most devastating stock market crash in the nationâ€™s history occurred. As the initial crash turned into a prolonged depression, much of the new laboratoryâ€™s promised funding evaporated. The Bar Harbor researchers who had anticipated an idyllic atmosphere in which they could probe scientific mysteries, instead were asked to go fishing once a week so as to have enough to eat. Little, in addition to shuttling back and forth between Maine and New York, began spending all his time searching for funding at a time when nobody had a dime to spare.
The Jackson Memorial Laboratory survived the worst of the depression, in part because of the hard work and perseverance of its staff, and in part because of the emergence of a new business model. It began selling the strains of inbred mice it had developed to other research institutions, a practice that helped the laboratory survive the Depression and that became very profitable after the 1938 formation of the National Cancer Institute. Staff members began to refer to the laboratory as "Mousetown" and by the end of World War II more than 9,000 mice were being shipped from Bar Harbor to facilities all over the world.
The laboratory was also gaining an international reputation as a training ground where young scientists came to gain insights into cancer formation. Some of them stayed a few years and moved on, but others were charmed by the setting and never left. Immunogeneticist George D. Snell joined the staff in 1935 and did groundbreaking research on histocompatibility that helped make tissue and organ transplants viable. Snell remained at the laboratory until his retirement in 1969, and was still living in Bar Harbor in 1980 when he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine.
The husband and wife team of Elizabeth and William Russell arrived in Bar Harbor in 1937. In compliance with nepotism rules, only William was hired to work at the laboratory, but Elizabeth was given lab space and began making important discoveries about tumorigenesis. After a decade in Bar Harbor, the Russells divorced and William moved to the Oak Ridge National Laboratory, where he used his knowledge of mice to conduct large-scale radiation studies. Elizabeth Russell, however, remained in Maine and was finally officially added to the staff at Jackson. While raising four children as a single mother, she also found time to publish a major four-part histological study that pinpointed the mouseâ€™s individual phenotypes. She remained in Bar Harbor until reaching the mandatory retirement age of 65, and even then continued to do active research as an emeritus staff member until shortly before her death in 2001.
Little, meanwhile, continued to match the energy of his staff, as he juggled his time between the pastoral beauty of Bar Harbor and the bustle of New York City. As managing director of the American Society for Control of Cancer, his charm and charisma helped him raise funds and garner much-needed public understanding of the disease and appreciation of the need for more research. Myths about cancer still abounded, and there were still many "cancerphobes" who believed the subject could not be discussed in polite society. Little was just the man to lead efforts to change the way Americans thought about cancer.
The most notable initiative was the Womenâ€™s Field Army, organized in 1936 by ASCC field representative Marjorie G. Illig. Members of this army began to wage a metaphorical war on cancer, donning khaki uniforms that included insignia of rank, and taking to the streets to raise money and educate the public about the symptoms of cancer. It proved enormously successful â€“ according to Little, "In 1935 there were 15,000 people active in cancer control throughout the United States. At the close of 1938, there were ten times that number."
A man whose family history contained as much military glory as Little did not use a term like "Army" lightly. Little saw his mission in precisely those terms, explaining to Time magazine, "It will be a great fight â€“ a war worth waging. â€¦ perhaps whatever ancestral desire I have to explore the unknown is appealed to be the research work and the wish to be a â€˜crusader,â€™ which almost all of us have, is given to express itself. â€¦ I believe that Americans will be happier and saner if they combine in fighting a scourge like cancer than they will be if they continue to fight each other for money and power."
Little also changed the makeup of the ASCC, which had previously been dominated by scientists. Recognizing that the most pressing need was to make cancer understandable to the public, advertising genius Albert Lasker and his wife Mary were added to the board. Ironically, one of Laskerâ€™s best-known campaigns had been for Lucky Strike cigarettes, but the relationship between smoking and cancer was not yet even suspected and the Laskers were passionate about finding a cure for cancer. The ASCC hired a publicist for the first time and Littleâ€™s own communication skills also proved valuable explaining complex scientific matters to the lay reader. He wrote several pamphlets that dispelled some popular myths about cancer, and in 1939 he published a book entitled Civilization Against Cancer that would come to be considered "a classic for the layman."
Clarence Cook Littleâ€™s views about the origins of cancer were more complex. He was ahead of many scientists in recognizing that cancer was not the result of a germ or virus, noting perceptively in 1933 that it seemed instead to begin with "some as yet mysterious â€˜derangementâ€™ within a single body cell." He also acknowledged that the disease could not be solely hereditary in origin, and at first was willing to consider many possible factors. In a 1944 ASCC pamphlet, he wrote that there was no conclusive evidence linking cigarettes to lung cancer, but added, "it would seem unwise to fill the lungs repeatedly with a suspension of fine particles of tobacco product â€¦ It is difficult to see how such particles can be prevented from becoming lodged in the walls of the lung and when so located how can they avoid providing a certain amount of irritation."
Yet as the years went by, Little grew increasingly stubborn about maintaining that cancer was caused by a genetic disorder. In the face of mounting evidence that smoking played a pivotal role in the development of cancer mounted, he insisted that such external factors merely exploited an inherited vulnerability. He became just as adamant that the solution to cancer would be found by a scientist doing genetic research in a laboratory â€“ a place, in short, like the Roscoe B. Jackson Memorial Laboratory.
At the same time, his successes at the American Society for Control of Cancer were starting to be overshadowed by controversy. Little remained as outspoken as ever, continuing to advocate eugenics and euthanasia and becoming a founding director of the National Society for the Legalization of Euthanasia and the Race Betterment Congress. In 1936, he even went so far as to thank "the gentlemen who rule Italy, Japan, and Germany for demonstrating that a program of stimulating population is a program of war."
Nor did Little shy away from alienating his would-be allies in his war against cancer. He often attacked doctors, once saying of the state of cancer diagnosis, "In no other sector of medicine has this black art been developed to such a high degree of plausible treachery." His relationships with his board members also began to deteriorate. In 1944, the ASCC board decided that the organization was now far too big to be run by a part-time director and told Little to choose between Bar Harbor and New York City. To nobodyâ€™s surprise, Pete Little returned to Maine.
When the Second World War ended, the laboratory began to flourish and it expanded to include nineteen researchers. But everything changed on October 23, 1947, when a sudden wind change caused a Maine brush fire to spiral out of control. Fire raced through the Jackson Laboratories, leveling a number of buildings and killing nearly all of the mice.
Some staff members and trustees believed it was time to move the laboratory to another location, but Little insisted that it remain in Bar Harbor and he prevailed. The longstanding practice of selling mice to other research facilities proved a saving grace, as it meant that few mice strains were permanently lost. Russell led a successful effort to reassemble the many strains and before long "Mousetown" was busier than ever. Within five years of the catastrophic fire, the research staff had nearly doubled.
As he approached retirement age, C. C. Little showed no interest in spending his golden years in leisure. So in 1954 he agreed to become the scientific director of the Tobacco Industry Research Committee (TIRC), a newly created organization that was funded by the tobacco industry. Many were shocked by the news that a longtime leader in the war on cancer was willing to accept such a post. "It seems astonishing to me," wrote cancer researcher Evarts Graham, "that a man of his eminence in the field of cancer and genetics would condescend to take a position like that." But in the context of Littleâ€™s career, it wasnâ€™t really that surprising.
By this time, America was facing an epidemic of deaths from lung cancer, a disease that had been all but unknown when Little began his career. Increasingly, researchers were turning their attention to cigarettes as the cause of the disease, and many of the studies were being done with mice from Bar Harbor. To Little, this seemed a disastrous wrong turn in the war on cancer that seemed to negate everything for which he had worked.
So Little initially accepted a position on the Scientific Advisory Board, apparently seeing this as an opportunity to ensure that the type of research he believed in would again receive funding. When offered the chance to instead become the scientific director of the new organization, he must have felt that this was his chance to again become a leader in the war on cancer.
From the perspective of big tobacco, Little "filled the bill perfectly." In that yearâ€™s Frank Statement, the industry had pledged to provide money to thoroughly investigate the allegations being made about their products. C. C. Little was a man whose distinguished scientific credentials convinced skeptics of the legitimacy of the TIRC. Respected New York Times science writer Waldemar Kaempffert, for example, proclaimed Little "an eminent geneticist, a type of scientist who has the courage to face facts and to state them" and concluded that his hiring proved that the industry was committed to the "impartial investigation" it had promised. Little also had a strong predisposition to direct research funds into very different areas.
It soon became clear just how committed he was to those convictions. At the press conference to announce his hiring, Little declared himself to be "an ultraconservative about cause and effect." In the years to come, he never wavered in his convictions. He retracted his 1944 comments about the dangers of allowing tobacco particles to enter the lungs and now asserted that there was no convincing evidence that smoking caused lung disease and even maintained that, "tobacco has relaxed a great many people. It is a very good therapy for a great many nervous people."
He even tried to present his new position as another crusade, writing that, "If those of us on the Board have the wisdom and vision to plan creatively â€¦ the tobacco industry will have made its greatest contribution of service to mankind and may well establish a precedent or pattern which other industries will follow. Should this occur, the stability and development of basic research in a democracy will be assured on a foundation of nonpolitical support, unselfish and idealistic in concept and execution."
Paralleling his early days at the American Society for Control of Cancer, he returned to New York City to undertake what he saw as a dual function of advancing research and educating the public. "Essentially, the major purposes of the T. I. R. C.," he wrote in a 1955 memo, "are Research and Public Relations. Our job is to maintain a balance between the two."
The tobacco industry, however, quickly realized that a venerable scientist like Little could be very valuable to their interests but that he was not the man to lead a challenging and crucial public relations campaign. So within a few years of the founding of the TIRC, a separate organization known as the Tobacco Institute was created to respond to the growing public relations nightmare. As one industry attorney put it, "the creation of a separate organization for public information was hit upon as a way of keeping Little inviolate and untainted in his ivory tower while giving a new group a little more freedom of action in the public relations field."
Clarence Cook Little played that role for the next fifteen years and he did so with characteristic unwaveringness. As epidemiological evidence of a link between smoking and lung cancer mounted, and as the surgeon general and other public health officials issued warnings, Little continued to lend his name and reputation to the industryâ€™s contention that there was merely a "controversy" and no scientific proof of causation. The TIRC routinely declined to fund epidemiological research and Little led the industryâ€™s attack on the validity of epidemiological findings.
Littleâ€™s disdain for epidemiology was not uncommon at the time, but other funding decisions were much harder to justify. Despite Littleâ€™s background in mouse research, the TIRC declined to fund animal studies, since Little contended that the results would not be applicable to humans. Prospective research on the composition of tobacco smoke was also rejected. Instead, as the years went by, the TIRC began to appear committed to funding only research that could not possibly produce results that would damage the tobacco industry. Eventually even Philip Morris research director Helmut Wakeham complained that "much of the grant work has little or no relevance to smoking and health, in my opinion."
Clarence Littleâ€™s comments about smoking also became increasingly difficult to rationalize as the views of an objective man of science. In 1957, with many cigarette advertisements implying that filters lessened the risk of disease, Little testified before Congress that he neither knew nor cared whether filters provided any such protection. In 1960, the TIRCâ€™s annual report was entitled "Causation Theory of Smoking Unproved" and contained the bizarre assertion that "the tobacco theory is rapidly losing much of the unique importance claimed by its adherents at its original announcement."
The TIRC changed its name to the Council for Tobacco Research (CTR) in 1964 but Little remained in charge and its course wasnâ€™t altered in the slightest, even by the Surgeon Generalâ€™s landmark report of that same year. By this time, however, even many within the industry were becoming weary of Littleâ€™s intransigence. Brown & Williamson chief counsel Addison Yeaman suggested in an internal memo that the Surgeon Generalâ€™s Report should result in a new course: "One would suppose we would not repeat Dr. Littleâ€™s oft repeated â€˜not proven.â€™ One would hope the industry would act affirmatively and not merely react defensively." Even TIRC/CTR Scientific Advisory Board member Paul Kotin eventually concluded that Little and industry executives "knew the real relationship, and they were denying it."
Clarence Cook Little was 75 when the 1964 Surgeon Generalâ€™s Report was released and over the next few years his role at the Council for Tobacco Research decreased steadily. It is not entirely clear whether his health was declining, whether the industry had decided he had lost his value as a scientific spokesman, or whether some combination of these and other factors led to him gradually fading from the public scene. He continued to serve as the CTRâ€™s Scientific Director for several more years, but eventually returned to Maine. On December 22, 1971, he suffered a heart attack and died at the Maine Coast Memorial Hospital at the age of 83. It marked the end of an eventful and tumultuous life.
Allan M. Brandt, The Cigarette Century: The Rise, Fall and Deadly Persistence of the Product that Defined America (New York: Basic Books, 2007).
"Athletics Find Friend in New Michigan Head," Chicago Tribune, November 3, 1925, 19.
"Calls Enforcement Joke: Michigan University Head Advises Business-like Survey of
Rum War Resources," Los Angeles Times, December 11, 1925, 1..
"Cancer Army," Time, March 22, 1937.
James F. Crow, "C. C. Little, Cancer and Inbred Mice," Genetics, Vol. 161, 1357-1361, August 2002.
"College Head Sees To Much Petting: Overshadows Scholastic Aims, Says Michiganâ€™s New President; Supports Present Athletic System; Thinks It Is the Only Cure for â€˜Over-Emphasis Placed on Jazz," Hartford Courant, November 3, 1925, 24.
"Dare to Think for Yourself, Dr. Little Urges," Chicago Tribune, June 17, 1929, 31.
"Dr. C. C. Little Inducted Sixth Michigan Head," Christian Science Monitor, November 2, 1925, 1.
"Dr. Little Accepts Birth Control Post," New York Times, January 24, 1936.
"Dr. Little Explains Resignation Here," New York Times, February 16, 1929, 36.
"Edict of Little on Liquor Stirs Michigan Frats," Chicago Tribune, December 17, 1925, 10.
"Five Honorary Members: Harvard Hone Men Chosen From Class of â€™10 to Phi Beta Kappa Alpha of Massachusetts," Boston Globe, February 27, 1910, 7.
"James L. Little and Wife Both Dead; Latter Was in a Serious Condition Some Days; Husband, Member of an Old Boston Family, Stricken Suddenly," Boston Globe, August 22, 1914, 9.
Richard Kluger, Ashes to Ashes: Americaâ€™s Hundred-Year Cigarette War and the Unabashed Triumph of Philip Morris (New York: Vintage Books, 1996).
"Little to Captain Harvard Athletics," New York Times, June 5, 1909, 7.
"Littles Lived Apart Ten Years, His Bill Says," Chicago Tribune, June 27, 1929, 1.
"Michigan University Head Insists on Dry Act Respect," Christian Science Monitor, December 17, 1925, 1.
"Outline of Deposition of Clarence Cook Little Taken on Behalf of Plaintiffs on November 3, 1959," (http://tobaccodocuments.org/tplp/ATMXPRIV00013038-3041.html).
K. Paigen, "One Hundred Years of Mouse Genetics: An Intellectual History. I. The Classical Period (1902-1980)," Genetics, January 1, 2003; 163(1): 1-7.
"Preparatory League Indoor Meet Promises to Be a Big Success," Boston Globe, February 19, 1906, 2.
"Prexies Lament High Pressure College Lives," Chicago Tribune, January 14, 1927, 3.
"Regent Upholds Free Speech of University Head," Los Angeles Times, December 16, 1925, 1.
"Reports Dr. Little Will Quit Michigan," New York Times, January 21, 1929, 14.
"Student Autos May Be Barred at Michigan U.," Chicago Tribune, April 24, 1927, 20.
"University Head Asks Limit on Population: Children of Slums Declared Worse Off Than Savages by Dr. C. C. Little," Washington Post, November 19, 1925, 3.
"University Head Who Urged Birth Control Warned," Los Angeles Times, November 30, 1925, 13.
"Urges Sterilization of Mental Defectives: University of Michigan President Also Advocates Birth Control for Poor," New York Times, November 19, 1925, 18.
Alden Whitman, "Stirred Controversy Often," New York Times, December 23, 1971, 28.
For More Biographical Information:
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Biography Index. A cumulative index to biographical material in books and magazines. Volume 2: August, 1949-August, 1952. New York: H.W. Wilson Co., 1953. (BioIn 2).
Biography Index. A cumulative index to biographical material in books and magazines. Volume 3: September, 1952-August, 1955. New York: H.W. Wilson Co., 1956. (BioIn 3).
Biography Index. A cumulative index to biographical material in books and magazines. Volume 9: September, 1970-August, 1973. New York: H.W. Wilson Co., 1974. (BioIn 9).
Biography Index. A cumulative index to biographical material in books and magazines. Volume 11: September, 1976-August, 1979. New York: H.W. Wilson Co., 1980. (BioIn 11).
Chambers Biographical Dictionary. Sixth edition. Edited by Melanie Parry. New York: Larousse Kingfisher Chambers, 1997. (ChamBiD).
Dictionary of Scientific Biography. Volumes 17-18, Supplement II. Edited by Frederic L. Holmes. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1990. (DcScB S2).
Larousse Dictionary of Scientists. Edited by Hazel Muir. New York: Larousse, 1994. (LarDcSc).
The Oxford Companion to Medicine. Two volumes. Edited by John Walton, Paul B. Beeson, and Ronald Bodley Scott. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1986. (OxCMed).
Random House Webster's Dictionary of Scientists. New York: Random House, 1997. (RanHWDS).
LITTLE, C. C. and E. E. TYZZER, 1916 Further experimental studies on the inheritance of susceptibility to a transplantable carcinoma (JA) of the Japanese waltzing mouse. J. Med. Res. 33:393-427.
LITTLE, C. C. (1913) and Phillips, J. C., "A Cross Involving Four Pairs of Mendelizing Characters in Mice," Am. Nat., Vol. 47, pp. 760-762.
LITTLE, C. C., 1914 "A possible Mendelian explanation for a type of inheritance apparently non-Mendelian in nature," Science 40:904-906.
LITTLE, C. C., 1957 The Inheritance of Coat Color in Dogs. Cornell University Press, Ithaca, NY.
LITTLE , CLARENCE COOK, Civilization Against Cancer, Farrar & Rinehart (1939).
Synonyms*Cook-Little, Clarence (see Litt