Gertrude B. Elion

The chemist who turned personal loss into life-saving medicine

Most people don't know that one of the 20th century's greatest drug developers never earned a PhD, was repeatedly rejected from graduate programs because she was a woman, and began her Nobel Prize-winning career making $20 a week testing the acidity of pickles. Gertrude Elion's path to revolutionizing medicine started not in a prestigious laboratory, but in a Brooklyn kitchen where her grandfather's painful death from cancer ignited a 15-year-old's determination to find cures for diseases that seemed incurable.

Timeline of Key Moments

• 1918: Born in New York City to immigrant parents who valued education above all else
• 1933: Grandfather dies of stomach cancer; 15-year-old Gertrude decides to become a scientist to fight disease
• 1937: Graduates summa cum laude from Hunter College with chemistry degree; faces rejection from graduate schools due to gender discrimination
• 1944: Finally lands position at Burroughs Wellcome (now GlaxoSmithKline) working under George Hitchings
• 1950: Develops 6-mercaptopurine (6-MP), the first effective treatment for childhood leukemia
• 1957: Creates azathioprine (Imuran), enabling the first successful kidney transplants
• 1959: Develops allopurinol for treating gout, helping millions manage painful condition
• 1967: Synthesizes acyclovir, the first effective antiviral drug for herpes infections
• 1983: Retires from Burroughs Wellcome but continues research and mentoring
• 1988: Wins Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine (shared with Hitchings and James Black)
• 1991: Becomes first woman inducted into National Inventors Hall of Fame
• 1999: Dies at age 81, having developed drugs that saved millions of lives

The Human Story

Gertrude Elion's journey began with a tragedy that would have broken many people but instead forged an unbreakable resolve. When her beloved grandfather succumbed to stomach cancer in 1933, the 15-year-old watched helplessly as he suffered through his final months. "I had never seen anyone die before," she later recalled, "and I was very close to him. His death was slow and painful, and I decided then that I wanted to do something that might eventually lead to a cure for this terrible disease."

This wasn't the romantic notion of a teenager who would soon move on to other interests. Elion threw herself into chemistry with the single-minded focus of someone on a mission. At Hunter College, she graduated summa cum laude in 1937, but her academic excellence meant nothing to graduate schools that simply didn't accept women. One professor told her bluntly that she would be a distraction to the male students. Another suggested she become a high school teacher instead.

For seven years, Elion scraped together whatever scientific work she could find. She tested the acidity of pickles, analyzed the fat content of mayonnaise, and worked as a high school substitute teacher. Each rejection stung, but she refused to abandon her dream. "I never considered giving up," she said. "I was going to be a chemist no matter what." She finally earned her master's degree at night while working full-time, conducting her thesis research on weekends.

The breakthrough came in 1944 when World War II created a labor shortage that finally opened doors for women in science. George Hitchings at Burroughs Wellcome hired her as a research assistant, and their partnership would transform medicine. Hitchings was unconventional—he believed in hiring smart people and letting them pursue their instincts rather than following rigid protocols. For Elion, who had been told for years that she didn't belong in a laboratory, this freedom was intoxicating.

Their approach was revolutionary for its time. Instead of the traditional trial-and-error method of drug discovery, they studied the fundamental differences between healthy cells and diseased ones, then designed molecules to exploit those differences. "We were like detectives," Elion explained. "We had to figure out what made cancer cells different from normal cells, what made bacteria different from human cells."

The Nobel moment came as a complete surprise. On October 17, 1988, Elion was in her kitchen preparing for a trip to London when the phone rang at 6:30 AM. The voice on the other end, speaking with a Swedish accent, informed her she had won the Nobel Prize. Her first reaction was disbelief—she thought it might be a prank. "I screamed," she later admitted. "Then I sat down and cried." She immediately called her brother, her closest living relative, who was equally stunned. The woman who had been told she would never make it in science had just received its highest honor.

What made Elion's achievement even more remarkable was that she had done it without a PhD. The Nobel Committee noted this unusual circumstance, but her track record spoke for itself: 45 patents and drugs that had saved countless lives. Her first major breakthrough, 6-mercaptopurine, transformed childhood leukemia from a death sentence to a treatable disease. Before 6-MP, children with acute leukemia typically died within months. After its introduction, survival rates soared to over 80%.

But the human cost of her dedication was significant. Elion never married, though she came close twice. Her first fiancé died of a bacterial infection just before they were to wed—an event that deepened her commitment to finding cures for infectious diseases. A later relationship ended when her partner gave her an ultimatum: him or her career. She chose her work. "I had a choice to make," she reflected years later. "I never had children of my own, but I've helped save the lives of thousands of children. That has to count for something."

The politics surrounding her Nobel Prize revealed the complex dynamics of scientific recognition. Some questioned whether she deserved equal credit with Hitchings, her longtime supervisor. But those who worked with them knew the truth: their collaboration was genuinely equal, with Elion often taking the lead on specific projects. Hitchings himself was adamant about her contributions: "Trudy was not just my assistant. She was my partner in every sense of the word."

Winning the Nobel Prize at age 70 could have been the perfect capstone to her career, but Elion saw it as a beginning rather than an end. She used her newfound platform to advocate for women in science and to push for more research into neglected diseases. The prize money went toward establishing scholarships for young women pursuing scientific careers. "I want to help other women avoid the obstacles I faced," she said.

Her approach to drug development influenced an entire generation of researchers. Rather than accepting that certain diseases were incurable, she asked why they couldn't be cured and then systematically worked to find answers. Her antiviral drug acyclovir, developed in the 1970s, was initially met with skepticism—many scientists believed effective antiviral drugs were impossible. But Elion persisted, and acyclovir became the foundation for treating herpes infections and later inspired the development of AZT for HIV/AIDS.

Perhaps most remarkably, Elion never lost sight of the human impact of her work. She regularly visited hospitals to see patients who were being treated with her drugs. "I met children who were alive because of 6-MP," she said. "That meant more to me than any award ever could." She kept letters from grateful patients and their families, reading them whenever she felt discouraged about a failed experiment or a rejected grant proposal.

The ripple effects of her work continue today. The rational drug design approach she pioneered with Hitchings is now standard practice in pharmaceutical research. Her drugs have been modified and improved, but the fundamental principles she established—understanding disease mechanisms at the molecular level and designing targeted therapies—remain the foundation of modern drug development.

Revealing Quotes

On her motivation: "I had no specific ambition to win a Nobel Prize, but I did want to do something with my life that would help humanity. The satisfaction of seeing sick people get well because of something you discovered—that's the greatest reward any scientist can have."

On facing discrimination: "Don't let them discourage you. If you have the ability and the determination, you can overcome any obstacle. I was told many times that I didn't belong in a laboratory, but I knew they were wrong. The work itself proved them wrong."

On her approach to science: "We weren't just throwing compounds at diseases and hoping something would stick. We were trying to understand the fundamental differences between healthy and diseased cells, then design molecules that would exploit those differences. It was like solving a puzzle, and I loved puzzles."

From her Nobel acceptance speech: "The Nobel Prize is not just recognition of past achievements, but a responsibility to continue working for the benefit of humanity. I hope my example will encourage young women to pursue careers in science, because we need all the brilliant minds we can get to solve the world's problems."

On her legacy: "I never had children of my own, but I like to think that the drugs I developed are my children. They've gone out into the world and helped millions of people live better lives. What more could a parent ask for?"

Lessons for Today

Gertrude Elion's story teaches us that breakthrough achievements often come from those who refuse to accept conventional limitations—whether imposed by society, institutions, or the supposed impossibility of the problems they're trying to solve. Her journey from pickle-tester to Nobel laureate demonstrates that persistence in the face of systematic discrimination can ultimately triumph, but it also reveals the personal costs of such determination.

Her approach to drug development—understanding problems at their most fundamental level before attempting solutions—offers a model for tackling any complex challenge. Rather than accepting that childhood leukemia was incurable or that effective antiviral drugs were impossible, she asked better questions and refused to accept defeat.

Perhaps most importantly, Elion's story shows us that the highest achievements in science come not from abstract intellectual curiosity alone, but from a deep commitment to reducing human suffering. Her grandfather's death gave her work a moral urgency that sustained her through decades of rejection and failure. In our own pursuits, whether scientific or otherwise, connecting our work to something larger than ourselves—to the welfare of others, to the solution of pressing problems—can provide the motivation needed to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

Her Nobel Prize journey also illuminates how recognition in science often comes late, if at all, and how the most important validation comes not from awards but from seeing your work make a real difference in the world. The children who survived leukemia because of her drugs were her true prize, long before Stockholm called.