Professor Reza Ghadiri himself probably did not expect any of the following to come out in the open, and become readily accessible to a worldwide audience. Let alone have a website like this pop up every time someone types Reza Ghadiri in Google. What can I say? Welcome to the Information Age!

This post is composed of tiny little chapters. (Should we say, nano-chapters?) There are eleven of them here already, I can think of a few more that I might append in the future.

1. "I care about my students"

Even before I joined the lab, Reza Ghadiri proclaimed himself as a caring PhD advisor. He made a good impression on me when I first met him. Very amiable guy, smart, approachable and enthusiastic. He said he cared about his students. That's why, he said, he only had a few — so he could take better care of them. When I joined the lab in August 2003, there were four other PhD students already there. Of the five of us, only two ended up choosing to remain in Dr. Ghadiri's "care" long enough to get PhD diplomas. One quit graduate school altogether (that's me). Two switched labs in their second or third years (read a comment from one them).

2. The Great Grant Scare

Research projects I worked on in the Ghadiri group were funded by an NIH grant (R01GM067170, Design Of Intrasterically Regulated Chimeric Enzymes). The grant was for a total of $1.35 million, spread over four years, Jan 2003 — Dec 2006. All Reza had to do was submit a progress report to NIH once a year, and another $300K+ was added to the lab's budget. A standard procedure, not a competitive process, no peer review involved. In other words, something very difficult to screw up. Except, of course, I didn't exactly know all of this back then. And Reza used my ignorance for motivational purposes.

Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri would say that we (myself and two other guys) had to work extra hard, because he needed to "renew" the grant. According to him, we needed lots of good results and, hopefully, publications asap, or else the funding could be lost. When Reza talked about this, you could see the seriousness in his face and hear the composed concern in his voice. From what he said however, it was never really clear what the exact deadline for this "grant renewal" was. It was always "soon". Whenever I thought the time was up, it was as if Reza magically procured four or six more months for us to prove ourselves.

This grant talk went on for years. In 2005, Ghadiri pressed me to prepare the drafts of two papers I finished collecting experimental data for. He said something about the grant renewal deadline approaching again. He seemed pretty enthusiastic about the results I obtained, awarding me with his usual epithets of approval like "excellent" and "fantastic". At that time, I actually thought I might avoid the curse of JRD. I didn't, but Reza really had me going for a while.

Needless to say, Prof. Reza Ghadiri got all that grant money just fine, even with 0 (that's right, zero) publications in four years. As far as I know, the only paper to officially come out as a result of that $1.35 mil so far was the one published in late 2007 in Angewandte. NIH RePORTER and PubMed confirm this (the 2003 paper can be ignored as it contains results described in the original grant application). So... a 1.35-million-dollar paper, anyone?

3. Reza talks about happiness

Do you know that old Bill Cosby's show, Kids Say The Darndest Things? They should make one with profs instead of kids. Then Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri could star in it.

I think it was my second year in the lab, I was in Reza's office for a one-on-one meeting. We were discussing research, Reza might have asked how I was doing, I probably said I was fine — the usual. But then, out of nowhere, he paused, looked at me and said, thoughtfully: "You know, Andrei, happiness is not the most important thing..." I had to do a double take in my head to make sure I heard him right. Reza must have noticed my raised eyebrows. He cautiously began to explain something about working hard and getting good results in the lab. Of course, I knew where that bullshit train was rolling. So I jumped to say: "Oh, um, but I thought, getting good results in the lab was something that could make one happy".

And with that, the happiness lecture ended. Nice try though, Reza.

4. Crime and Punishment

It happened during my second year at Scripps and in the Ghadiri lab. Reza was acting so worried and concerned as if I nearly killed somebody and was going to jail for life. No, but I did get reported by Scripps sysadmins for running a BitTorrent application on my laboratory laptop. I had been doing it for several months, and probably managed to go through about 40 Gigs of bandwidth, give or take. I was not downloading anything illegal, but still, Scripps policy was for the internet connections to be used for work-related purposes only.

Prof. Reza Ghadiri told me it was very good I was not denying anything. The thought of lying about it never even crossed my mind. But the expression on Ghadiri's face was like that of a caring lawyer who just secured a way to shave five years off his favorite client's jail sentence. He said that I should not worry about it too much (as if I was going to worry at all), focus on my work instead, but that the dean will want to talk to me. I was puzzled by the amount of drama, but I had to shrug my shoulders and go on with my daily business, unfazed.

Some number of days later, Ghadiri called me into his office again. This time he said that my bandwidth usage had cost Scripps thousands of dollars. I resisted commenting on just how ridiculous that claim really was, but said that Scripps could take whatever I owed out of my salary. I was beginning to get somewhat annoyed.

Reza's tone softened as he went on tell me that I would not have to meet with the dean after all. Which made me neither happy nor unhappy, but at least it made sense (I imagined a dean would have had better things to do). What Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri said next, however, clued me in on what the whole tempest in a teapot was really about.

Reza said that he vouched for me and told the dean that I was a good, hard-working student. By the looks of it, I was probably supposed to think that he saved my behind from impending doom. Instead, I thanked him politely, and asked how my being hard-working or not was at all relevant in this case. His didn't quite answer my question. In a caring and trust-inspiring voice, he suggested that now I needed to work very hard in the lab, and try my best to get really good results, so that "everyone would forget what happened".

Trying to make a big deal out of my little crime just to scare me into working more? Oh Em Gee, Reza! Good times...

"Working hard?"

I don't know if Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri realizes this, but he might be the inventor of an awesome new greeting in the English language. PIs take note: it is especially practical in communicating with your students and postdocs. So, forget "Hello", "How are you?", "How's it going?" and meet... "Working hard?"

It is meant to be said nicely, just like Reza always said it, the same way good friends say hello to each other. To be fair and precise, Reza did not always use it instead of "Hello" or "How are you?". In fact, "Working hard?" is just as good when used in combination with conventional greetings.

Hello, reader. How are you doing? Working hard?

How great is that! But wait, there is more. Want the goodbye version to complete the set? It's "Work hard". Just remove the question mark and make it an imperative. Dr. Ghadiri would say it after a brief conversation in the lab or a meeting in his office. It is similar to "talk to you later" or "see you around", but incomparably more energizing.

To students and postdocs: in case you are wondering, the correct responses to "Working hard?" and "Work hard" from your PI are "Paying much?" and "Pay more". Just kidding, don't say that.

Well, that's it for now, folks. Work hard!

Immigrant labor

Dr. Ghadiri had countless reasons to offer to his PhD students on why they needed to work really hard. Some of his motivational "advice" was quite general, some was very personal. Some was tailored to specific kinds of students and situations.

One example of the latter concerned non-American PhD students. Reza had a candid revelation in store for them, including even Canadians. In private, he would tell those students that they had to work harder simply because they were foreigners. Because, according to Reza, not being a local was a significant competitive disadvantage for those who wanted a science career in the United States.

That's what he said, to at least two different students that I know of. Does Iranian-born TSRI professor Reza Ghadiri actually believe that himself? Who knows. But I'll bet he wants his foreign PhD students to believe it 100%.

Words, words, words

"I like you, Andrei"
"I want you to have papers in your second year"
"We need to get your name out there"
"I want you to start making a name for yourself"

These are some of the things Reza would say to me. I'm quoting from memory, but I'm pretty sure I have it all word for word. Simply because Dr. Ghadiri repeated himself a number of times over the course of the years and my conversations with him.

I can't say I've ever been perfectly accustomed to hearing "I like you" from another guy. So that was a little strange, especially in the beginning. We didn't exactly hang out. But that was nice to hear. And I am not being sarcastic: all else equal, a verbally supportive PhD advisor is better than a verbally abusive one. How often he sends you flowers or publishes your papers is another matter entirely.

A quiet scandal

Of course, Prof. M. Reza Ghadiri was being coy when he said he was just a cheerleader. To continue with the sports analogy, he was also club president, team manager and the referee.

Two Ghadiri lab members, a graduate student and a postdoc, worked on a project together. They eventually diverged, because Reza said he wanted the student to work on something of his own. The postdoc carried the project into the final stages. So when the paper was published in 2007, he was expected to be listed as the first author. What came as a surprise to many, including myself, was that the student's name wasn't in the author list at all.

The publication in question is the same 2007 Angewandte paper I mentioned twice before. It's the same paper that was reportedly sent to Science first, and the only paper to come out of a $1.35 million grant. It was also the only paper that the postdoc got out of 3.5 years in the Ghadiri lab. And I'm sure it was nice for him to be not just the first, but the only author on the paper (besides Reza as the principal investigator). Just like as if he had managed to do all the work by himself. The truth, however, is that a lot of the work was done by someone else. Less than a half, perhaps, but no less than a third of lab work by my judgment. I know because I was the closest to where both of the guys worked. In fact, the three of us were a subgroup within the Ghadiri group, our desks next to one another, sharing the same lab benches and equipment, working on closely related things.

The name of the postdoc in this story is Nathan Gianneschi. He did his PhD with Prof. Chad Mirkin at Northwestern University. Drs. Chad A. Mirkin and M. Reza Ghadiri are colleagues — and friends. Dr. Ghadiri sits on the Editorial Advisory Board of a journal called Small, where Dr. Mirkin is chairman. Reza is also a member of the Scientific Advisory Board of Nanosphere, Inc. (NASDAQ stock symbol: NSPH), which Dr. Mirkin co-founded in 2000.

In 2008, Dr. Nathan C. Gianneschi was offered a tenure-track position of Assistant Professor of Chemistry at the University of California, San Diego (Nathan's faculty profile at UCSD is here). Who knows just how much screwing a student out of a publication and getting all the credit for collective work helped in that regard. But, you know, I'm pretty sure it didn't hurt.

Glimpses of the true colors

Besides Dr. Ghadiri himself as the PhD advisor, my thesis committee was originally composed of Floyd Romesberg, Gerald Joyce and Chi-Huey Wong. Romesberg and Joyce were my own choice. Reza reacted by saying they were "tough", like it was something I needed to worry about. Wong was his recommendation. During the first meeting, a.k.a. the PhD candidacy exam, the guy was so quiet he hardly said two words. From my perspective, he was useless. Reza, on the other hand, must have liked him there. Too bad, because I was able to swap Chi-Huey Wong for Pete Schultz the following year.

Going to PhD committee meetings with Reza Ghadiri turned out to be quite interesting. Reza, normally composed and relaxed, became visibly tense, nervous and on edge. Ironically, I found Romesberg, Joyce and Schultz easy to deal with. Ghadiri was the one who got really "tough" on me. "Tough" is the wrong word. He was a pain in the ass.

Like a pesky back-seat driver, he was interrupting my presentation, getting annoyed, telling me to flip through slides faster, voicing dubious comments which began with "If one does this experiment properly..." (implying I didn't), jumping to scold and label me as "defensive" simply for addressing criticism. All of a sudden, Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri seemed a lot less like a cheerleader, and more like someone who could throw you under the bus if it helped him look better.

Mandatory bonding

On the Sunday of July 9th, 2006, the Olympiastadion in Berlin, Germany, hosted the 18th FIFA World Cup final between Italy and France. At the same time, across the globe, Prof. M. Reza Ghadiri's house and backyard in Del Mar, California, hosted the annual Ghadiri group get-together.

Not only did Reza insist on that specific date, he also insisted on perfect attendance. In two previous years I had successfully managed to take a pass on a couple of lab picnics. This time, however, Reza approached me personally and demanded, albeit politely, that I be there. Jah only knew what the big deal was, but apparently it was no longer optional.

Well, it wasn't too bad. Reza did allow us to watch the game, even though I would have much preferred to enjoy it in a pub with some friends instead of my boss's kitchen with my boss. And then, after the match, I could have still made it to his place well in time for most of the eating, sitting around, contrived conversations and veiled boredom. One postdoc actually dared to do just that, and was promptly reproached by Ghadiri upon her belated arrival. I suppose back then Reza didn't know she was to become Prof. Phil Baran's wife, otherwise he might have chosen to keep his managerial displeasure to himself.

"It's not rocket science"

That's another phrase Reza Ghadiri seemed to like throwing around in an upbeat and supposedly encouraging manner. Many a planned experiment, procedure, task or part of a project was easy and not "rocket science" according to Reza. To be sure, Ghadiri lab doesn't do any aerospace engineering. But what a nice way to put someone under a bit pressure to get the job done!

Unfortunately, pressure sometimes backfires. One postdoc in the lab was quietly "let go" without recommendation letters for his attempts to falsify experimental data. The guy, allegedly, faked analytical HPLC traces by adding compounds from the bottle in order to produce the appearance of successful reactions. The project was a failure, his work did not produce the desired results. In a desperate and risky move, he decided to try and "live up to the expectations" anyway. He got caught thanks to an observant lab member. Ghadiri was lucky, as he came pretty close to publishing a fraudulent paper. He and the postdoc were already working on the manuscript.

Let me illustrate.

1. One year, one paper

A postdoc spent about a year visiting Reza's office nearly every day to discuss a single paper. It took a lot of time and effort to prepare, but that manuscript went out for publication. Reportedly, it was first submitted to Science, but was rejected. It was published in Angewandte Chemie.

2. An ultimatum

A fellow graduate student had several papers on the line. He told Dr. Ghadiri about his intent to leave and work for another supervisor. That is, if Reza continued to put off moving forward with those papers. Judging by the recent publication history, the issue has been resolved.

3. Blast from the past

Professor M. Reza Ghadiri has two papers in 2008 that catch my eye: one in ChemBioChem, another in Small. Except for Dr. Ghadiri himself, none of the authors had been members of the Ghadiri group for years. I know because I was there since August 2003. So, after five years or a little more, but the articles were published. Why in 2008? Around that time I heard that Reza was busy working on a paper by a former lab member, who asked to (finally) publish it, because he needed it to support his tenure application. It might have been just a rumor. But the first author on both papers actually is a professor now.

I am unable to read minds. So I can't pretend to know the real reasons for why Reza is not the fastest man on earth to publish. The only word about it I heard directly from him was "busy". Which is hardly an explanation: who isn't? But let me put it this way.

Dr. Ghadiri is a well-established, successful and ambitious scientist. His laboratory is funded better than most academic labs out there. The research done by his group is interdisciplinary, multi-directional and is based on off-the-wall and outside-the-box ideas. It's the type of work that could, in principle, and sometimes does, in practice, get into Nature or Science.

And if I were in this kind of situation, I would be doing something similar. Consciously and purposefully. My desk would have its own journal too. Next post is all about the reasons why.

Remember Clippit, the annoying paperclip character from Microsoft Office 97 and 2003? It was the same kind of thing, except it looked like The Sims version of Reza Ghadiri himself. Imagine that, a custom-made Office Assistant! Animated, it would move its little bald head, play with models of cyclic peptides and make questionable (or, frankly, obscene) hand gestures. It came with a repertoire of phrases too. Including something like "Welcome to the world of bullshit. There is much you can learn here" and "We will publish lots of papers".

I was still new to the Ghadiri group when I discovered it on one of the laboratory computers. I remember having a Holy crap, Batman! moment, and wondering if anyone else was aware of this "customization". How long would it take for Reza to find out?

And... nothing happened.  There is a reason why they don't shoot reality TV shows in research labs. I don't think Reza the professor ever found out. So Reza the office assistant lived on. Somehow I never got around to making a copy, or a screencast, of it. But it was still there last time I checked. Who knows, it might still be there now — ready to go with a click of a button.

The internet is not just for porn. Science professors can have websites too. For example, you can find the website of a chemistry professor by the name of Reza Ghadiri if you search for "Ghadiri lab" or "Ghadiri group website". Or, you might find this page instead. Which is fine, since there is not much to see on the actual Ghadiri Lab website anyway. Has not been for many years.

Check the Internet Archive for yourself. 2001-2005 was the Surfer Dude era, and all the Ghadiri group had to show you was this here. "A new site will be arriving soon", it said. In 2003 I have actually seen a Ghadiri group website made by a student in the lab. He even made CGI animations to showcase recent projects in the lab. Reza must have preferred the surfer dude though, because that website never went online. In 2005 the surfer went away to make way for a plain page entitled "Ghadiri website under revamp". It read "The Ghadiri web sie [sic]  is undergoing reconstruction. Please try again later".

About four years later, in 2009, came the current version of the Ghadiri Laboratory website. It does not look like it is under construction any more. Look at all the buttons: links, photos, research, publications, news, lectures... 11 sections! Great, start clicking. Did you fall for it? Only two sections really exist:  'Home' has a sentence copied word-for-word out of faculty listings on scripps.edu, and the 'Contact' page has the contact information (also available from Scripps online directory).

As you can see, Dr. Ghadiri does not seem to be eager to communicate much information about his group to the outside world. And why would he be? He could put up a list of current and past group members. Except then you would find out about all the students who quit the lab. During a five year period, I have seen four students leave the Ghadiri group — all two years or more into the PhD program. The number of those who stuck with Prof. Ghadiri and got their PhD diplomas in the same time period? Two.

Another problem with group member lists and group photos is that you can count the people. This gives you an idea of the laboratory's horsepower. Then you can look at the (somewhat thin) stream of publications coming out of the lab. Put two and two together, and you are onto the Journal of Reza's Desk.

You should not have a website about something you do not want to attract attention to. Perhaps, in case of Prof. M. Reza Ghadiri that something is his research group. Then why the charade with "under construction" signs, "revamps" and fake links?

Another, more vivid, example can be helpful here. Go to the website of a Nobel Prize-winning chemist E. J. Corey, www.ejcorey.com. Click on the "Members' Data" button to get to the page which "provides the complete list of current and former Corey group members". Search for three names: Felix Chau, Fung Lam, Jason Altom. Not there? Strange. They are E. J. Corey's students who committed suicide.

In my previous post I used the word "medieval" to describe the way PhD students are exploited to power academic research. Here is another principle Academia of today adopts from the Olden Days of Chivalry:

Keep up appearances whatever you do

Here is how you can get your paper "published" in the Journal of Reza's Desk:

1. Join the Ghadiri lab as a postdoc or a graduate student;
2. Work on a project for a year or two, get results;
3. Write up a scientific paper;
4. Wait for Reza to send it out to a scientific journal for review and publication.

You will not be notified if or when your paper is accepted into JRD. But, if a year or more have passed, and Dr. Ghadiri still has not submitted your manuscript where you thought it was supposed to go (a real journal, like JACS or Biochemistry)... Congratulations, you have a paper in JRD!

It does not happen every time. For example, your research might have the coolness factor high enough for Science or Nature. In this case Reza should be quite keen on sending your paper out. Like many scientists, he appears to be very fond of seeing his name in either of those two journals. A paper in Science or Nature is like a tiny Nobel Prize as far as scientific prestige goes.

Personally, I have two JRD papers. One communication, one full, both originally intended for JACS. Professor Ghadiri gave me the green light and I wrote them up in late 2005. We went through the usual editing process together. The papers traveled back and forth between my desk and Reza's for a month or two. That was it. Reza's desk is where those papers are to this day.

At first I was not worried. Up to that point Dr. Ghadiri seemed very excited about getting my papers published. He certainly did a good job of encouraging me to complete the work as soon as possible and keeping me excited about it. Among the incentives he pointed out were: 1) a positive effect on my career:  "We need to get your name out there, Andrei," he would say to me, 2) preparing a stronger grant renewal application, 3) making a valuable contribution to science, and 4) being able to move forward to other important projects. All of which sounded very reasonable to me.

Time passed. Reza kept reassuring me that he would get back to my papers as soon as he had time. I did not care to doubt his words or nag. The subject came up once in a while, so I knew he remembered. More time went by. Whatever other publishable results I had, I now hesitated to write up. Preparing manuscripts for publication began to feel like a waste of time. Besides, I could always do it later. Reza did not insist. Summer of 2008 was the last time we had a one-on-one meeting. "Why have you not published the papers?" I asked. "I've been busy," said Dr. M. Reza Ghadiri. Well, in the words of SNL's Seth Meyers: Really?!

It had been 2,5 years then, it has been over 4 years now. How busy can a man be?

Dr. Reza Ghadiri's publication history is openly accessible, of course. Authoratory.com has this summary, for example. When I joined the group in August 2003, the two laboratories were crowded with researchers. 15, possibly 18 working scientists. When I left in April 2009 there were more like 8 people there. Take 10 for a conservative average, and do the math. Correct me if I am wrong, about 0.5 publications per person per year on average? Not too low, but not that high either.

Will my work in the Ghadiri lab ever see the light of day? Maybe, maybe not. This is not the point. The bigger question still stands. WHY? Why would anyone choose to delay announcing the results of his and his own laboratory's research to the rest of the world? After all, this is how science is meant to advance. Otherwise the wheel gets reinvented and resources go down the drain. Why run the risk of getting scooped? Whatever happened to publish or perish?

Before you think Dr. Ghadiri is a bit on the loony side, let me assure you, he is not. Far from it. He is a successful scientist, and a very rational man. So why then? I can offer a perfectly sane explanation. Read Journal of Reza's Desk, part II.