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	Above: Dr. Terry Phillips at work in his laboratory. Above: The forerunner of the Recycling Immunoaffinity Chromatography Microchip.  Below: Dr. Phillips explaining to Capitol Hill staff visitors how the immunoaffinity microchip works.

Dr. Terry Phillips’ Adventures in Immunology

What did one cell say to the other? Typically a set-up line for a joke, this simple question reflects the essence of the research quest of Dr. Terry Phillips, NIBIB scientist and internationally respected expert in the field of immunology, to understand how cells communicate, and what their messages mean in terms of overall health.

Rolling Stones…

Phillips’ career itinerary is one Indiana Jones might envy. Born in Nakuru, Kenya, he spent the first years of his life on a farm where his father raised coffee. His home was a true paradise for a boy with infinite curiosity about nature and the exotic animals of Africa. But in 1952 the Mau Mau uprisings began, and with danger growing in the tense political environment, in 1958, his father decided to return with his family to Buckinghamshire, England. At age 13, the move from the African savannah to the English countryside was an enormous adjustment for Phillips, who by that time spoke the Swahili language better than he spoke English.

Earliest academic predilections suggested a future as a historian, but his parents persuaded against it. Phillips explains, “My parents were afraid I wouldn’t be able to feed myself. So instead, we agreed I would go into marine biology.”

Just prior to entering college in 1963, however, an unexpected opportunity presented itself and pulled Phillips in a completely different direction. “I was accepted to King’s College in London and was supposed to start classes in September. But in June of that year, I met three young anthropologists who told me they were going to go and live with Eskimos in Greenland. I laughed at them, but they said, ‘Well, what’s so funny about that? What are your summer plans?’ They asked me to come along with them, so I took their challenge.”

“The next thing I knew, I was putting my last few coins into a frosty telephone in Iceland. On the other end, my mother answered, and I said, ‘Hi! Guess where I am? I’m in Reykjavik, and I’m going to Greenland.’ She said, ‘You’re kidding. I don’t believe you.’ Then we got cut off.”

Not so unlike Pinocchio’s reality check on the Island of Lost Boys, Phillips’ naïve notion of life on the frozen tundra quickly vanished as, one by one, his three comrades went packing. The first to go was seriously injured when he fell into an ice crevasse; another friend’s hands were severely frozen; the third, recognizing the myriad of calamities that might present themselves, simply quit. By that time, men stationed at Thule Air Force Base warned Phillips that he would soon be out of radio range, and they started inquiring as to when they could schedule his trip home.

To make things worse, communicating with the locals was a problem. Phillips says, “I was living with Eskimo families, but I didn’t know their language. So I started making drawings of things I was thinking, and this became our cultural tie.” Undaunted by the potential challenges, he stayed, and six and half months later, he had quite literally walked across the full width of Greenland. Later, he discovered that he was the first person of his age to have made such a journey.

Calling his mother from Reykjavik once again, he was immediately reminded that he would be arriving back home too far into the academic year, and he had blown his chance to go to the university. His father—kind, but firm—simply advised that it was time to get a job.

Finding One’s Feet

Seeking opportunities nearby to his home in London, Phillips was quickly hired as a junior technician in a hospital microscopy unit. He recalls, “I had no experience, but my entrance exam scores for university showed them I could learn. They didn’t pay me enough to live, but with financial help from my parents, I kept trying to show my dedication, and my boss consistently responded by giving me new challenges.”

Phillips was gradually promoted through the ranks, and in 1966, was offered a position at a sister lab in Scotland. “ I said no because my parents were local, but luckily there was a research team just about an hour from where we lived, so I took that job. That’s where I started learning immunology at the bench.”

This new opportunity allowed Phillips to polish his technical skills. Despite the fact that he didn’t have a university degree, his cohorts began to admire his natural ability and hard work. Ultimately, he was given full responsibility of the laboratory.

Meanwhile, his supervisor kept trying to convince him of the importance of higher education, and eventually, Phillips started night classes at London University. He earned undergraduate degrees in both chemistry and biology, all the while getting practical experience through his every-day work in the lab. Phillips still expresses gratitude for the crucial role his supervisor played in his professional success.

In 1970, Phillips was on the move again, but this time to St. Johns, Newfoundland, where he had been asked to run a pathology laboratory focused on cancer research. He recalls his nervous anticipation about the place he would soon call home, “When I asked for a one-way ticket to St. Johns, the man in the kiosk took a step back, cocked his head, and said, ‘You mean, St. Johns, New Brunswick?’ And I said, ‘No sir, I mean St. John’s, Newfoundland.’ He excused himself and went through a heavy door to the back of the office where I overheard him saying, ‘…and he’s buying a one-way ticket.’ His declaration was at once followed by a thunderous laughter, but he finally returned and sold me the ticket.” Completing the picture, Phillips adds, “At that time, the whole Pathology Department at St. John’s consisted of three huts pushed together, and we walked on wooden planks over the mud and snow to get between buildings.”

When his father passed away in 1972, Phillips headed back to England where he was again seeking work. “A friend told me that the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine needed people who spoke African languages, so I applied. When I went to interview, a gentleman asked me if I knew any foreign languages. I told him I could speak Swahili, so he began speaking to me in his rather rough version of the language. When he heard I could speak it even better than he could, I was hired.”

Going Home

Phillips was sent to Sudan for three years, where he served as a field officer for the World Health Organization (WHO). His research during this period earned him a junior lecturer position in the London School.

Having spent his formative years in Africa, Phillips returned to his home continent with more social finesse than most. He relates how precarious cultural indoctrination can be, “Newborn babies have heel stabs in the first few days of life from which samples of blood are taken. I started using these little samples in Sudan because, in those days, you could prick somebody’s finger and no one would object. But if you brought a syringe out, they might draw a knife or spear.”

“I remember one health research team that came to where I was working. They arrived wearing protective rubber suits, looking like alien life forms, and they hadn’t bothered to talk to the head man of the village. And all thoughts of wild animals and disease aside, it was obvious they had no idea how dangerous some places in Africa can be for those who don’t follow the necessary customs, because they walked in with only one .38 caliber pistol among them. The head man of the village came to me and said, ‘You know, the people who came from the sky should be killed.’ And I told him, ‘No, no, no. They’re trying to do you some good.’ So I went over and explained to them that they were going to have to talk to the chief if they wanted a better reception.”

The Trials, Tribulations, and Rewards of Academia

While serving the WHO in Africa, Phillips completed the requirements for a Master of Philosophy degree from University College, University of London, but in his mind, the award was a consolation prize. He explains, “A Master’s degree usually gets converted to a doctoral degree if you successfully defend your research, but there were things in my thesis that the Chair of my committee said couldn’t possibly be true. I had developed a diagnostic test for a disease called schistosomiasis, which suggested that post-infections were caused by people recontaminating water holes, but that wasn’t the accepted theory. The problem was, excessive antibodies can create immune complexes that actually block the antibodies. That’s why common tests wouldn’t work, but my test actually split the analyses, which is why it did work. I received abundant accolades in the field, but the experts were completely unimpressed. So I said, ‘Okay. Three years sitting in a dessert is enough for me. African savannah is one thing, but the dessert is another thing entirely.’ So I settled for a Master’s.”

Despite the setback, Phillips’ former boss asked him to set up yet another lab—this time, in Montreal—so Phillips found himself relocating “across the pond” a second time. About a year later, a telegram from London informed him that his thesis had been proven correct. Vindicated at last, Phillips rewrote and resubmitted his thesis, and was awarded a Doctor of Philosophy degree in immunology. Reflecting on this academic victory, he quips, “The Brits can be hard, but when you’re right, they admit it.”

Coming Home

In January of 1977, Quebec suddenly seemed a very difficult place for an English-speaking researcher to live. French had become the official language, which meant that every document in the lab had to be translated, and every staff member had to be bilingual in just six months. Phillips recalls the panic, “People were leaving McGill University in droves. My boss got an offer at Georgetown, but I didn’t want to come to the States, so I remained in Montreal. However, later that year, Georgetown finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

An Assistant Professorship and related perks were the main enticements, but Phillips admits, “It was September, and the day I left Montreal, we were supposed to get an early blizzard. So when I arrived here in Washington, I thought… Wow! This place is beautiful.” With that, Phillips put down stakes and set up camp in the United States, where he has lived for over 30 years now.

Climbing the Professional Ladder

Teaching immunology, pathology, and renal pathology at Georgetown kept him busy for three years. He says quite casually, “I was looking at things such as glomerulitis and nephrotic syndrome—the icky stuff always ends up going to the kidneys.”

Specialized in diagnostics of those conditions, he was collaborating extensively with The George Washington University Medical Center (GWUMC). “GWUMC kept sending me more and more specimens. Then, in 1980, I got a call from the Chief of their Department of Medicine. He offered me an Associate Professorship and my own lab, and also asked me to take over the transplant and immunology labs.” Phillips accepted and spent the next 20 years of his career at GWUMC, eventually achieving full tenured professorship. During that period he was invited to submit a thesis on his work in immune regulation pathways for a Doctor of Science degree from University College in London. Following a formal examination by a committee of experts, he was awarded that degree in 1986.

Although he had been collaborating with intramural investigators since 1982, the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke (NINDS) welcomed Phillips to its research team in 1999. He had become well known for miniaturization of technologies for testing blood samples of newborn babies, but upon arrival at NIH, was given a new challenge: microanalysis of the neuromuscular junction.

“When the people from NINDS originally came to me, they were already developing miniaturization tests to look at chemistries in newborn babies, and they wondered if there was any way of doing immunological tests on their samples. We were eventually able to identify 50 different analytes in a single dried blood spot. I continued to collaborate with NINDS and several people outside of NINDS to develop instrumentation, which included microchips.”

Thinking Small

Now, as Chief of NIBIB’s Ultramicro Immunodiagnostics Section, Phillips’ team is currently focused on miniaturization of diagnostic tools optimizing immunological or immunochemical techniques. He and his staff are able to maintain a single cell in a specialized chamber and measure its analytes from only 50 picoliters of sample and at attogram per milliliter concentrations; virtually unfathomable, put in perspective, a picoliter is a trillionth of a liter, and an attogram is a billionth of a billionth of a gram.

The NIH campus has been the ultimate meltingpot of ideas for his work. He says, “I’ve been collaborating with people here for many years, and now I have so many friends I work with on campus, and a lot of them right here at NIBIB. My own personal research still investigates the neural pathways of newborn children, but I have also diverted into point of care (POC) technologies to develop highly portable diagnostic instruments.”

His proudest invention is an acupuncture microdialysis system, for which he shares a patent with Dr. Jay Shah of the NIH Rehabilitation Medicine Department. “Jay uses acupuncture in his research. When I learned more about his work, I wondered if it would help to have an acupuncture needle that could sample fluids in the trigger points so we could analyze the chemical processes that take place during an acupuncture treatment.” True to his endeavor to develop less invasive technologies, he says, “The best part is the needles are completely painless. I tested them on myself.” This and other micro-sampling technologies have Phillips involved with studies on stress in adventurers, soldiers, and sailors, from the USA, UK, and Norway.

Life IS Good

Phillips’ work also extends to other fields, including comparative zoology. He has been a consultant to the Smithsonian Institute and the World Wildlife Fund. “This is a dream come true. I have had the pleasure of working with wonderful animals such as tree kangaroos, elephants, and lemurs, and my projects have taken me on several field trips to Africa, Asia, Antarctica, and the Arctic.”

This far down the professional trail, Phillips is one of those rare people who finds endless fascination, and subsequently, true happiness in his chosen craft. He says, “My father always used to tell me, ‘You need to find a job where you can play for the rest of your life.’ Well, I’ve certainly found it. It’s a marvelous playground here in my microlab.”