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Dr. Gary M. Mawe: A tribute to a scholar, mentor, and friend

2024; Wiley; Volume: 36; Issue: 5 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1111/nmo.14807

1365-2982

Keith A. Sharkey, Beverley Greenwood‐Van Meerveld,

Anesthesia and Neurotoxicity Research

The field of Neurogastroenterology and Motility lost a highly respected colleague, mentor, and leader when Gary Mawe died peacefully on February 17, 2024, following a long illness. Gary served in a leadership role as an American Neurogastroenterology and Motility Society (ANMS) councilor (2006–2014), Chair of the ANMS Research Committee (2012–2014), Reviews Editor of Neurogastroenterology and Motility (NGM, 2012–2016), and Chair of the NGM Management Committee (2019–2024). Gary Mawe was a uniquely gifted individual who beyond being an outstanding scholar left an indelible mark on all who met him, whether they were a trainee, one of his peers, or his own mentors. His charm, wit, generosity, unbridled energy and enthusiasm for both science and life were unparalleled. Fortunately, there is room in our field for personalities; those who enrich our scientific and personal lives in a manner that goes far beyond their papers and conference presentations. In this article, we remember Gary through his many scientific accomplishments, but in a manner not typical of journal obituaries, by providing personal narratives from some of his many colleagues. These words are a heartfelt tribute to a great scientist, and dear friend; they were written to inspire others. The mid-1980's were not a great time for those of us who were permanent denizens of New York City (NYC). Although the City had emerged from its financial crisis, crime and fear of crime were heavily publicized. Life in NYC was, nevertheless, interesting, but it was not easy to persuade candidates from other locations, to uproot themselves and accept a job that entailed a move to NYC. One day during that period, I arrived a bit late to my office at Columbia in a bad mood because of a delay on the subway. My day began with an interview of a candidate for a post-doc. I met the candidate, Gary Mawe; we chatted a bit and my mood changed quickly from bad to very good. It stayed that way until I became sad when Gary left after 4 years to accept a faculty position at the University of Vermont. Gary was one of those rare people, who are generally described as a person of good cheer but are far more than that. Gary was a person whose good cheer was infectious. He went through life radiating it and spreading it to others. Wherever Gary went he built a cadre of happy admirers. He did that, not only through his magnetic personality, but through his enthusiasm and love, not only for the scientific projects that he was working on, invariably with great success, but also for the projects of the people he met. Gary was open and transparent as anyone who loves photographing snowflakes, fireflies, and the stars is likely to be. It is my conceit that I introduced Gary to the enteric nervous system, serotonin, and the gallbladder, but he more than repaid me with his friendship, great advice, and a better life than I would have had if he had not braved the tunnels of the NYC subway system to keep his appointment with me so many years ago. Gary and I shared many commonalities, among them—we both began in laboratories using ultrastructural analysis as a tool to inform function. In the lab of Mike Gershon at Columbia University we had the opportunity to answer questions by combining morphology, physiology, and pharmacology. Later in our careers we both taught human clinical anatomy in dissection-based courses. Gary was always available; he knew how to listen just as well as he knew how to teach. Gary's exuberance in life, at life, about life was a constant; whether the topic was the latest findings from his lab, the most recent trip he had taken, his family—we always enjoyed being in conversation with Gary. He was a favorite house guest who enjoyed home cooking and cooking at our home. To break bread with Gary was to enjoy life. The last image I shared with Gary was one I made of the Southern Cross taken off the coast of Chile in early January 2023, specifically with him in mind. It will be impossible to look at the night sky, see the stars and not think of Gary. I got to know Gary during a 4 week visit to Columbia University in New York. This led to the first description of the neurochemical coding of myenteric neurons in the guinea pig stomach.4 Gary has been much more than just a colleague; he became a true friend. Over the years we visited each other frequently, mostly to collaborate. During the visits, we enjoyed many hours of leisure time and discussions about life in general. Me and my family visited Gary in Vermont, stayed at his house for a few days, and never forgot the great time we had. Gary was the most loveable character, a fine human being with a caring attitude and a true humanist. He will be remembered as a giant in our field with ground-breaking publications and concepts, which influenced many of us. Gary had a great sense of humor. I remember Gary's request when Paul Enck and I organized the first "little-brain big-brain" meeting in Munich in 1989. Since his favorite topic at that time was the innervation of the gallbladder, the "gallbag", as Gary put it, he asked us to rename the meeting to "little-brain big-brain-no-brain"! Me and my family will dearly miss him—he left us way too soon. No words are strong enough to express our deep sadness. In 1988, Gary joined the Department of Anatomy and Neurobiology at the University of Vermont. At the time of his death, Gary was Samuel W. Thayer Professor of Neurological Sciences, University of Vermont and Adjunct Professor of Physiology and Pharmacology, University of Calgary. I first met Gary at the inaugural Little-Brain Big-Brain meeting 1989. This was shortly after his move to UVM where he had set up his lab to investigate the neural control of gallbladder function. This was a productive period with a string of influential papers. This was the first of these meetings which continue to this day. Gary presented at subsequent meetings in Japan, Canada, and Australia after which even the ever-youthful Gary couldn't pass as a young investigator. It was at these meetings that our mutual enjoyment and love of science helped forge a deep and lasting friendship and camaraderie that continued until his passing in 2024. On a family ski trip, we visited Gary in Burlington. Gary kindly let us stay with him in his recently built post and beam house which he had moved into just the week before. We had a great time playing in the snow, visiting the Ben and Jerry's ice cream factory, and learning about maple syrup production. Thereafter, we set up a trade whenever Gary and I met at DDW, maple syrup for Scottish single malt whiskey. The exchange rate was 1 gallon of syrup for a bottle of scotch. I recall sitting on the deck where Gary had set up a telescope, so with the clear nights and little light pollution we had a great view of comet Hale-Bopp at its nearest point to earth, which would pin our visit down to Easter 1997. There was no end to Gary's interests. We co-wrote the basic science chapter for Rome III with Stephen Vanner and Beverley Greenwood Van Meerveld. While in Rome we were treated to a private tour of the Vatican and Sistine chapel, but Gary was most excited about visiting the Capuchin crypts which he did one morning before it opened to the public. The crypt includes various alter pieces made from the skeletal remains of capuchin monks and the many photographs he took became teaching material for his gross anatomy classes, which his students loved. Many people owe Gary a dept of gratitude for all that he has done. He enriched our lives and will be sorely missed. I met Gary Mawe at the LBBB meeting in the late 1980's. I quickly recognised him as a friendly, enthusiastic and generous fellow scientist with a passionate interest in biology in general, and the gut in particular. In subsequent years I ran into him at uncounted symposia, conferences and scientific get-togethers. From our first encounter, it was obvious that Gary was very smart, highly motivated and well-read. He was also a very generous, genuine, kind person who cared deeply about the people in all aspects of his life. I stayed at his place in 2005 when I visited his lab–he was a great host for a wonderful sociable trip. He was always keen to make the introductions to a new member of his lab or a student involved in some fascinating summer project. Gary had a great sense of humour–quirky and individual. He was a great raconteur, chortling his way through involved stories that usually made gentle fun of mutual colleagues or one of those present. He was also known to enjoy an occasional beer and we spent many evenings talking about that peculiar mix of topics including science, families, universities, grant funding and publications. Good times indeed. I feel that I'm a lucky guy to have known Gary as much as I did. As a scientist, Gary had complete integrity and utter humility. He never actively sought the limelight or attention or followed the latest scientific "vogue". He was more than content to delve deeply into problems that were difficult, using exacting and time-consuming techniques. Gary gave wonderful presentations at scientific conferences, exuding a boyish enthusiasm and passion for his science; he loved nothing better than addressing challenging questions and discussing the nuances of the enteric nervous system with anyone who would listen! He was an outstanding mentor, who gave so much of himself to his trainees as attested by their success, and ongoing devotion and respect for him in the years following time in his lab. Gary had boundless enthusiasm for life. He got as excited about his latest results pertaining to electrophysiology of the "gallbag" as he did about photographing snowflakes and waterfalls. He was a steadfast and caring friend. He was always ready to spend a day hiking, walking around botanical gardens, or listening to jazz whenever a conference would take him somewhere fun. He will be sorely missed by many. Sharing birthdays that were three days apart, Gary never failed to remind me that I was older than him. It goes without saying–he was always the wiser one. Wiser in a fabric woven of many diverse talents and interests. Two personal examples that I will always cherish. His love of everything Vermont, outdoors, and nature, was for him completely compatible with his enjoyment of visiting New Orleans on the Dirty Coast. The breadth of his ability to discourse ran the gamut from eloquent, authoritative and influential discussions on the gut, to his patient and deep interest in my daughter that helped draw her into conversation when she was visiting UVM. I will honor him by remembering the treasured times that we shared together in science and family and aspire to follow his example. I first met Gary in 2005, after my family relocated to Vermont. I was happy to receive a call from Gary knowing our common interest for serotonin. However, I was very surprised when Gary, with great enthusiasm, convinced me to accept a position to study the gallbladder, a little organ I knew nothing about. My first project was to test Gary's hypothesis that interstitial cells of Cajal (ICC) were not involved in gallbladder smooth muscle function. With assistance from Onesmo Balemba and Sean Ward, I conducted a series of studies that ultimately disproved Gary's hypothesis. This work marked the first demonstration of ICC acting as pacemaker cells in an organ outside of the gut, and my conversion to the world of neurogastroenterology.13 Gary had a profound impact on my career. For 19 years we worked side-by-side, and our complementary expertise and personality made for the perfect team. He was a brilliant scientist and a generous colleague who kept his office door opened and made everyone feel welcome. His excitement for science and life was contagious. We shared a love for Montreal, museums, and jazz festivals. On hard days I would respond to his encouraging "Never a dull moment, Brigitte" with a smile. He celebrated manuscripts, grants, and graduations with memorable gatherings at his house which included some carefully selected homecooked meals and a group picture in front of Camel's Hump his favorite mountain in Vermont. Advances in gallbladder surgery led to decreased interest in basic gallbladder research and in 2012 we published our "last" manuscript on the gallbladder. We often reminisced about "the good old days of the gallbladder" and to our great pleasure, in 2018 NIH announced a Special Emphasis Panel to study gallbladder disease. This marked the rebirth of the "Green Mountain Gallbag Company". Gary's office door is now closed, but the doors of the lab will stay wide open, and his legacy will live on at UVM and far beyond. Our first conversation led to a 30-year collaboration investigating how reported symptoms in the absence of demonstrable pathology related to conventional and novel testing in functional gastrointestinal (GI) disorders. It was also the beginning of decade's long friendship between us and our families; one of great meaning to us both. Not only was Gary an exemplary scientist and researcher but Gary also took great pride in teaching at all levels of training and across numerous disciplines. He was a beloved instructor and mentor and a tireless advocate for increased funding and support for research in GI physiology and neurobiology, working to raise awareness of the importance of this field of study. Gary loved people and people loved Gary. You really could not help but be pulled into his gravitation field. His particular brand of charisma was inclusive and expansive. His academic accomplishments were certainly impressive, and his avocational life was rich and varied too. His reach and interests were vast, and incorporated his love of art and nature photography, baking, and innumerable hobbies. Whatever he was curious about, he pursued with an enthusiasm that was impressive and contagious. He and his collaborators discovered that luminal administration of 5-HT4 agonists accelerates recovery from colitis,21 reduces visceral hypersensitivity22 and has a protective action in the normal and inflamed colon.23 As most people, I was immediately and have forever since been drawn to Gary's unbridled enthusiasm and zest for life. Gary was a Visiting Professor for the University of Minnesota Graduate Program in Neuroscience when we first met in the summer of 1995 while he taught the beauty and complexity of the guinea pig enteric nervous system to convey concepts in neuropharmacology to impressionable young students like me. Within five years, I would embark on my career in neurogastroenterology learning intracellular electrophysiology in Gary's laboratory at the University of Vermont. Gary's teaching style was such that he eloquently broke down complex concepts into manageable units of information, present them in a very non-assuming, and often self-deprecating manner so that naïve students would feel as though they were on a level playing field. With this base, he would infuse advanced understanding and his own raw wonder at the complexity of living systems so that students became enraptured by the topic. This was true no matter the topic, be it neurophysiology, anatomy, snowflakes, smoked meat, or beer. Countless times, when we sat side by side at the electrophysiology setup or the fluorescence microscope, Gary would explain what we were seeing and follow it with a slap on the shoulder, a "Cool, huh?" and a "Now we are cooking with gas". It was truly Gary's wonder of the world, backed by pure optimism that fed his insatiable enthusiasm for the field of neurogastroenterology and motility. He was freely giving of his enchantment, acting as a formal or informal mentor to most of our growing field. I consider myself very fortunate to have been trained by Gary, but more importantly, I am fortunate for the lifelong friendship and mutual respect we shared for nearly three decades. I will dearly miss my friend. It was a testament to Gary's strength of character, and endurance that we put that paper together over weekly Zoom meetings, and countless emails. Whilst Gary was unwell at the time of writing this article, his enthusiasm for the latest discoveries in the field remained as strong then as it was in 1991, when we first met. Gary was the most generous of collaborators, always giving more than he took from our interactions for over 25 years. He always involved our trainees from the outset in any project, sharing with them the concepts of "dream to discovery" (Selye). We never stopped talking about our work, especially at conferences where we often shared hotel rooms. At his last joint lab meeting with my group in early December 2023, Gary continued to inspire, convincing our trainees of the value of a new experiment to do together to shed light on the impact of the gut microbiota on aspects of 5-HT signaling. He always teased me about becoming a convert to the serotonin field, as serotonin was his one true love. I was converted; being a Mawe convert is not such a bad thing. Thinking of Gary Mawe, my memories go back to about thirty years ago. Working with Catia Sternini, at CURE / UCLA, I started an exciting collaboration with local surgeons, on the innervation of human gallbladder. The experiments went well and with my colleagues we ended up publishing the organization and structure of peptide-containing neurons of the human gallbladder. Nothing really special…a common experience in any scientific activity, one may argue… But the funny part of this "normal" story was that at one of the CURE meetings, I met a reddish-haired, brilliant scientist and at the same time extremely kind man who clearly expressed himself saying that he read the human gallbladder paper and that he liked it a lot—"I will quote your paper in the next one of mine…"—stated with a warm and friendly smile. That was the beginning of a lifetime friendship with Gary, a fantastic scientist who literally pioneered the knowledge on the gallbladder neurophysiology, largely obscure before the seminal papers he wrote with his many collaborators. Dealing with Gary, it was impossible not became his friend. He had a deep sense of friendship corroborated by genuine humanity. Gary and I became true friends, often confessing each other our own 'bad and good' news on family, kids, work and any other aspects of life over many years. We enjoyed working together: I vividly remember his great generosity when I visited Gary in Vermont in 2004 to complete a review article on inflammatory neuropathy of the GI tract that eventually was accepted for publication in Gastroenterology.36 Now, I have just in front of me on my desk one of his postcards showing a breath-taking night in Vermont with a starry sky … "Those who left us are not absent, they are invisible: they keep their eyes full of glory on us…" I am sure one of those stars is Gary keeping on inspiring us somewhere in heaven. Throughout his career Gary Mawe earned significant acclaim for this work. Highlights include, a Janssen Award for Basic Research in Gastrointestinal Motility (1996), Basmajian/Williams & Wilkins Award of the American Association of Anatomists (1997), University Scholar, The University of Vermont Graduate College (2006), Samuel Thayer Professorship in Neurological Sciences (2015) and the ANMS Dodds-Sarna Award, honoring an investigator who made major contributions to the field (2023). But it is a fair reflection of Gary's self-deprecating nature that the award he was most proud of on his CV was, First Place and Best of Show, Men's Cooking, awarded at the Ohio State Fair in 1983. Gary was an outstanding teacher and lecturer. He understood the phrase "know your audience" and spoke meaningfully to audiences in the medical school at University of Vermont for decades. He gave over 250 invited lectures, seminars, and symposium presentations over the course of his career. Gary had a gift for asking intriguing questions, and he asked them often! Whether about his own scientific endeavors, the work of others, the wonders of nature, or a "how the hell are you?"–he just wanted to know. Looking back on our very first exchange in 2006, it is no surprise it revolved around a key question. I was a first-year PhD student and Gary was giving a chalk talk. He kept it brief, as he later shared–he was not planning to take on a new student. He showed his data on altered intestinal serotonin transporter expression in IBS and IBD. While serotonin was already a research focus of mine, I had my heart set on studying brain development. Still, I had to ask, "so, what about those 5-HT receptors?" It was a shared interest that laid the foundation of our work together in his lab. In a recommendation letter, Gary once wrote: "those of us who have managed to achieve some level of success in the sciences tend to ponder our research quite a bit." Two aspects of his words resonate deeply with the scientist, and person, he was. Humble, for one! And profoundly curious. If you ever attended a lab meeting, a lecture, visited a museum, hiked a mountain, or experienced almost anything with Gary you know he would incessantly nudge you with insight into the insatiable curiosity that fueled his view of the world. Of science. Of snowflakes and fireflies. Of life. Distilling the complexities of biology to their fundamental elements is a talent that thrives in those who find wonder in the broader perspective. I am forever grateful to Gary showing me the world through his ever-optimistic eyes, and for the academic family he fostered –together, we indeed form a greater whole than the sum of our parts. Of the numerous wonderful memories I hold of Gary, is that he was a distinguished scientist yet a humble and kind man who treated his mentees as equals—indeed, a model mentor who made sure members of his "team" enjoyed working together, cared for each other, and had fun together. My fascination with the gut began during my childhood in Tanzania. Although this interest reignited during my graduate studies in Copenhagen, it was genuinely nurtured in Gary's lab through various factors, including techniques to study the pathophysiology of gallbladder disorders and the excitement of electrophysiology. Sitting with Gary on his computer to discuss results, ponder new questions, postulate novel theories, and write manuscripts proved to be an immensely stimulating experience. His infectious zeal for scientific inquiry in Neurogastroenterology and Motility fueled my enthusiasm for research in this field—a sentiment I carry with me to this day. These elements, coupled with his genuine friendship and support, are among the primary reasons I chose to stay in the United States to pursue a research career. After leaving his lab, Gary never stopped standing by me with unwavering support and guidance. He had so much love for my family, too. His tradition of gifting my son a University of Vermont shirt every Christmas—is a gesture that serves as a tender reminder of Gary's enduring presence in our lives. I honor him not just as a mentor but as a trusted and compassionate brother and an absolute friend to all, regardless of acquaintance. Beyond his formal roles as an advisor and mentor, Gary enjoyed informal mentorship roles with both early career and senior faculty colleagues, supporting their careers. He was a frequent sponsor of early career faculty, and he actively promoted the highest values of equity, diversity, and inclusivity. Examples of his support are reflected in comments from Kara Margolis, and Arthur Beyder, both early career faculty members when they first met Gary, and Alberto Travagli, a senior faculty colleague. I met Gary for the first time at a serotonin conference during my second year as a faculty member. Within five minutes, Gary took me under his wing as part of his "serotonin family lineage". Once you entered Gary's lineage, you became an important part of his scientific and personal world. As a young investigator, he introduced me to many incredible people in the field, advocated for my positioning in societies and for me to be a speaker at multiple meetings. I would often set up morning coffee meetings with Gary where we would discuss life in general, scientific questions and challenges as well as career decisions. I never took for granted that Gary was available at any time to talk about anything. It was a great honor to be in Gary's world, where I felt as a mentee and then colleague and friend, to be ensconced in his extreme kindness, unconditional acceptance, brilliant conversations and non-stop laughter. Gary's modus operandi was to live life to the fullest and to bring people together; I feel so fortunate that I was able to experience both from him. To those of us fortunate enough to know him closely, left an indelible mark not only in the realm of gastroenterology but in the hearts of everyone he touched. My journey with Gary began over a decade ago, during my gastroenterology fellowship at the Mayo Clinic. During his visit and lecture on the gallbladder, his descriptions of supersaturated gallbladder contents captivated then, and later his ideas always created unparalleled visuals—like the "attention deficit disorder" in the enteric nervous system. What truly set Gary apart was his extraordinary warmth and the genuine interest he took in others. Our shared love for football—his for the Pittsburgh Steelers, and mine for the Buffalo Bills—served as the foundation of a friendship that went far beyond professional admiration. Win or lose, he was there to comfort me. Gary's knack for remembering the smallest details about my life, from the signing of a new player to the ups and downs of my family's journey, showcased his deep care and thoughtfulness. A cherished memory was my visit to Vermont, upon his invitation, which revealed the depth of Gary's character. He welcomed me into his life, introducing me to his students, his partner Cheryl, and even sharing his passion for photographing snowflakes, one of which he generously gifted to me. This framed photograph, a testament to Gary's eye for beauty and generosity, now holds a special place in my home, serving as a constant reminder of the beautiful soul he was. Gary was more than a mentor or colleague; he was a beacon of light and a true friend. When they say that "the good die young" they are talking about Gary. Yet, Gary's legacy is immortalized not just in his scientific achievements but in the personal connections he cherished and nurtured. His spirit and compassion continue to inspire those of us lucky enough to have been part of his world, ensuring that the beauty Gary saw in everything around him lives on in our memories and actions. Gary was great colleague who helped me throughout my career. I am not going to elaborate on the many great inputs he provided along the years; we do not have enough space for it. What I want to say is something that I never told Gary, or anybody else for that matter. Gary made an impact on my personal and professional life by exemplifying courtesy and kindness. I will never forget the long chats we had, discussing science and everyday life events, his encouraging words when I had some serious health issues, exchanging recipes for BBQ and beer preferences. I will always remember Gary and every time I enjoy a "Sip of Sunshine" and eat some brisket, I will have a glass and a plate by my side just for him. Gary profoundly believed in the importance of service to the profession and to the field. In addition to his roles for the ANMS and the journal, Gary was an Editorial Board member of American Journal of Physiology: Gastrointestinal and Liver Physiology (1999–2013), Reviewing Editor of the Journal of Physiology (2012–2017), and Associate Editor, Autonomic Neuroscience: Basic & Clinical (2002–2011), among others. As a recipient of numerous NIH funding awards for the entirety of his career, Gary served the NIH extensively, as a reviewer on a variety of committees and panels. In addition, he served the Science Foundation of Ireland, Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada, Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of Canada and others. I am deeply saddened by the loss of Gary, who was both a cherished friend and esteemed research colleague for many years. Our connection dates back to the early 1990's when Gary reached out to discuss a paper I had published on the gallbladder. Despite not having met him in person prior to the call, I was immediately struck by his boundless energy and infectious enthusiasm. It didn't take long for us to forge a strong bond as friends and collaborators. Throughout the years Gary sent several students, including Matt Coates, Jill Hoffman and Stephanie Spohn, to my lab in Oklahoma to learn the intricacies of conducting visceromotor reflex recording in rodents. Welcoming Gary and his mentees into my lab and home was a genuine pleasure. In return, Gary graciously extended an invitation for me to visit Vermont. I selected to visit in October, and after delivering my lecture and meeting his students, Gary generously and proudly shared with me the breathtaking beauty of Vermont's autumn foliage. In conclusion, Gary was truly a modern pioneer in the field of Neurogastroenterology and Motility. He made important discoveries that have had a lasting impact. He served as a mentor to numerous prodigies and his loss will be deeply felt, not only among his trainees, colleagues, and friends, but particularly by his partner Cheryl Collins and his two sons, Seamus and Connor. Rest in Peace. The authors and contributors wrote the article and approved it for submission. We sincerely regret that in the interests of space we could not include contributions from other colleagues, collaborators, trainees, and friends of Gary who would have gladly written their own personal and heartfelt tributes. No competing interests declared. Data sharing not applicable to this article as no datasets were generated or analysed during the current study.