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Keep your millions, FSU tells professor

A drug he invented has brought in cash and fame, and he donated even more for a new building. But the school's president tired of his demands and sent it back.

By LEONORA LaPETER
Published December 25, 2005

TALLAHASSEE - The letter, says Florida State University president T.K. Wetherell, was an ultimatum, pure and simple.

Chemistry professor Bob Holton, the inventor of a hugely profitable drug known as Taxol, was demanding that Wetherell approve the construction of a $67-million building devoted largely to Holton's specialty, synthetic chemistry. If he refused, Holton wrote, FSU would have to return the millions of dollars he had donated for it.

Taxol has generated $351-million for Holton and FSU. That's three times more than the University of Florida earned from Gatorade. It was enough to convince Wetherell's predecessor, former FSU president Talbot D'Alemberte, to give Holton whatever he wanted.

But Wetherell isn't D'Alemberte, and on the June day he opened Holton's letter, he decided enough was enough.

In a rare move in higher education, where major donors are treated like royalty, Wetherell told Holton he was returning $5-million of his money and a matching state grant. He said there will still be a chemistry building, but it will meet the university's needs, not Holton's.

"I don't think the university can be held hostage by a donor," Wetherell said in a recent interview.

Holton, 61, isn't backing down. He is suing FSU, demanding that it honor its gift agreements or retur n $29.5-million. Meanwhile, he is testing a promising Taxol spinoff that could bring FSU more royalties in the future.

Some FSU supporters worry this battle of egos could stall the school's push to become a research powerhouse. Holton worries it will hurt his efforts to find other cancer-fighting drugs.

"We got lucky that all this money came to us," Holton said. "I don't think the president can possibly understand that."

Wetherell, 60, said the university remains commited to Holton's research.

"We're not about to give up on Taxol," he said. "I'm a cancer survivor. I appreciate it more than most people. But nothing is bigger than the university. (Football coach) Bobby Bowden isn't. Bob Holton isn't. T.K. Wetherell isn't."

Holton acknowledges he can be difficult, bullheaded and "stubborn as a mule." But those traits, he says, helped him invent semisynthetic Taxol.

Scientists first discovered Taxol in 1962 in the bark of the Pacific yew tree. But researchers soon realized they had a problem: It took one 40-foot tree, probably 200 years old, to produce just half a gram of the cancer-killing solution.

During the 1980s, as Taxol showed great promise in human tests of breast and ovarian cancer, scientists around the world competed to create a synthetic version of the drug. Holton won the race in 1989. Five years later, Taxol was selling in 50 countries around the world. By 2000, its sales were $1.6-billion.

Until 2004, royalties flowed steadily into FSU coffers. Forty percent went to Holton. FSU got the rest, dividing its share among the FSU Foundation, the chemistry department and Holton's lab account, which supports his research.

FSU used the money to create a competitive grant program for faculty and to set up an endowment for more than a dozen professors. But a big portion was ticketed for the chemistry building.

Holton was heavily involved from the get-go. He wanted a building large enough to house 165 researchers, all with the latest equipment. He wanted four $5-million endowed research professors, all working in his specialty - synthetic chemistry.

D'Alemberte, the former FSU president, concedes Holton can be difficult.

"I think sometimes he's entirely oblivious about what other people feel or think," he said.

But D'Alemberte thinks you have to bet on your winners.

"I thought Bob's idea - that we build on the success of Taxol - was a good idea," he said.

Wetherell became president of FSU after D'Alemberte retired in 2003. He had long wanted to run the school, where he had played wide receiver and earned three degrees. Wetherell had built political capital during 12 years in the Florida House, including two as House speaker, and was considered an accomplished political strategist.

His good ol' boy hardball style, however, rankled many traditional academicians. He and Holton clashed from the beginning.

There was a disagreement over where to put the chemistry building. There was a fight over Holton's insistence on a parking garage. Meanwhile, the building's price tag kept going up, climbing to $46-million.

Holton just dug into his lab account for $18-million. He already had donated $11-million from his research foundation, which the state matched.

But in June, a new construction estimate showed the cost had escalated again, to $67-million. And that didn't include $21.5-million needed for updated equipment and four endowed research professors in synthetic chemistry.

Holton dug deep again, telling Wetherell in letters he would provide an additional $14-million from his lab account to satisfy any shortfall. But he insisted Wetherell act quickly.

Holton now says he realizes the June 29 letter he sent to Wetherell sounded like an ultimatum. But he didn't mean it that way. He says he was just impatient.

"I feel that we may have a huge misunderstanding," Holton wrote in a July 10 e-mail to Wetherell. "I certainly did not intend for it to be an ultimatum. I apologize for that, and if you would like for me to provide a public apology . . . I will do that."

The next day, Wetherell sent an e-mail to top administrators.

"I believe Bob realizes he screwed up. I don't think we need to rub his nose in it but I do believe it is time we split sheets and moved on. We will never be able to afford this building the way Bob wants to build it and with him involved."

Though unusual, Wetherell's decision to return Holton's money is not without precedent.

In 1995, Yale University returned $20-million to Lee M. Bass after the billionaire complained the school wasn't spending it on the Western civilization program they had asked him to support.

And the children of a family that gave Princeton University $35-million four decades ago for a government service program wants the investment back plus interest - now some $600-million - because they say it was used on unrelated programs.

Wetherell says he reviewed all of the university's gift agreements when he took over and returned several gifts that required more from the university than they were worth. He didn't give examples.

Wetherell also cut loose the Appleton Museum, a donation from Ocala's Appleton family, deeming its subsidy too costly for FSU to support. That dispute became a lawsuit that was finally resolved when the Legislature agreed to set aside $1.35-million a year to support the museum.

Holton wants FSU to honor his foundation's 1999 gift agreement for $6-million and 2002 gift agreement for $5-million. That means building the building he wants.

But university lawyers and Wetherell say only the 2002 agreement tied the university to the more sophisticated chemistry building. So they are returning only that portion of the money. Holton, they say, will get his own personal lab on the fifth floor as originally planned.

Holton and Wetherell also have different views about who controls Holton's lab account, which received $51-million in Taxol royalties. University lawyers say it is FSU's money and can be used for the scaled-back chemistry building. Holton says he should have say over where the money goes.

Holton says he has tried to talk to Wetherell but Wetherell has refused. Wetherell says he's willing to talk but university lawyers have forbidden him from speaking to anyone about the situation.

"It can be solved but Bob's a take-it-or-leave-it guy," Wetherell said. "Based on the letter I got and other examples, he has a difficult time letting loose of something. If he'd just let us build the building, he'd be proud of the building."

S. Danny Ponce, a Miami lawyer hired by Holton to help negotiate the dispute out of court, thinks Wetherell should honor the agreement of his predecessor.

"The man generated $200-million of royalties for them," Ponce said.

At Taxolog Inc., a for-profit pharmaceutical company created by Holton and a colleague, there is much excitement over new Taxol spinoffs that show even more promise than Taxol.

Taxolog, which has offices in Tallahassee and Fairfield, N.J., has conducted tests on 3,000 Taxol-related compounds since its inception eight years ago. Three of the drugs are being studied further.

The most promising is called Milataxel. In tests on mice with no immune systems, one dose killed breast, lung, colon and ovarian cancer. In human tests so far, Milataxel has stabilized patients with colon cancer, one of the most difficult cancers to beat, said Marty Huber, vice president and director of clinical studies for Taxolog.

In a lung cancer study, the tumors of several patients shrunk and one patient's tumor disappeared altogether, a rare event in lung cancer treatment.

The drug still must undergo a larger clinical study and is about five years away from coming to market. Since FSU owns a share of Taxolog, it would get royalties if the drug succeeds.

It is this kind of cancer research - Holton's specialty - that could vault FSU into the top tier of research universities, Holton's supporters say.

"That's how you're going to find a cure for cancer; by having the smartest people looking for the answers," said Sidney L. Matthew, who is on the board of MDS Research Foundation, which Holton created with his portion of Taxol proceeds. "Success breeds success, and when a program has been as successful as this one, it justifies a repeated investment."

Holton says he is confounded by the university's reaction. A workaholic who gets to the office at 4 a.m. an d has no cell phone, Holton feels it is his responsibility to continue studying Taxol spinoffs to find a cure for cancer.

At his seventh floor lab, he supervises several dozen graduate and postdoctoral students who are trying to replicate his success. He has no plans to leave FSU or retire any time soon.

"I'm pretty gung-ho," Holton said. "I'm not a retire kind of guy."

Times researcher Carolyn Edds contributed to this report, which used information from the FSU Office of Research.

[Last modified December 24, 2005, 23:43:13]