Obituary
Sir Philip Randle Diabetes researcher who described the eponymous Randle cycle of carbohydrate and fat metabolism. Born in Nuneaton, UK, on July 16, 1926, he died in Oxford, UK, on Sept 26, 2006, aged 80 years. The lasting impact of the work of Sir Philip Randle was not, as one might imagine, directly to do with his uncovering the mechanisms of the carbohydrate and fat metabolism cycle that now bears his name. Instead, his legacy was to spawn a theory that is still being tested and discussed 40 years later. “A good theory isn’t necessarily correct, but it should stimulate more research. And that’s what [Randle’s] cycle did”, explains Eric Newsholme, a professor and prominent metabolic biochemist who started his career as a PhD student with Randle in the 1960s. The paper in which Randle described the cycle, published in The Lancet in 1963, “opened up an entirely new field for people to work in and debate and argue about”, explains Newsholme. Although not strictly a cycle in the metabolic sense of the word—Hans Kreb, who described his own cycle, took issue with Randle using this label, according to Peter Garland, another of Randle’s former PhD students—the Randle cycle is a control pathway that links the metabolism of fat and carbohydrate. Its importance was that it opened up a new branch of diabetes research. According to Garland, who was a co-author on the paper, “after the Lancet publication, you couldn’t look on diabetes and the carbohydrate mechanism full stop...it was now clear a much wider array of mechanisms were at work”. 1644
Most of the experiments that preceded this discovery took place at Bristol University, Bristol, UK, where, in 1964, Randle had set up a new department of biochemistry. His dedication and enthusiasm spurred the group to become one of the foremost biochemistry departments in the world within 4–5 years; a standing it maintains today. Randle came to Bristol after a degree in Natural Sciences at Cambridge University, Cambridge, followed by a spell in London at University College, where he completed his medical studies. After qualifying as a doctor, Randle returned to Cambridge for a PhD under Frank Young, where he attempted to measure the concentration of insulin in blood—something that had never before been attempted. He was then offered a lectureship at the university’s biochemistry department, but left after 9 years’ service to move to Bristol. Garland, who joined Randle’s Bristol department in 1961, says it is easy to understand why the move was attractive to Randle. “The 1950s and 60s were an exciting time. Bristol gave him some space, and there was money around, so it was a great opportunity.” What Randle did best at the university was attract a team of excellent researchers to join him. Dick Denton, a professor at Bristol University who knew Randle well, explains: “In hindsight, it is easy to see that his most important action was a whole series of inspired academic appointments across the full range of the discipline of biochemistry.” But, Denton adds, Randle’s extraordinary stature probably played some part in his success. “[His] physical presence, intellect, booming voice and strong pipe smoke undoubtedly helped in diminishing the more conservative forces that he had to overcome at that critical period in the department’s development.” In 1975, Randle moved to Oxford University, Oxford, to set up another new, but much smaller, department: that of clinical biochemistry. But because this department was kept separate from the National Health Service, Randle did not have the scope that his contemporaries found in other universities. He retired in 1993, but not before serving as Vice-President of the Royal Society, of which he was a fellow. After retiring, he spent 5 years as President of the Biochemical Society, finally leaving the post in 2000. Since his last years at Bristol, Randle’s life had been touched by personal tragedy. His son, Peter, who developed cancer as a teenager, died before Randle moved to Oxford in 1971. His wife, Elizabeth, died 2 years ago, and just last year, one of his three daughters, Susan, succumbed to breast cancer. His colleagues remember him as approachable and inspiring: “He was an eminent scientist who didn’t have an office; his office was half of his experimental bench…he had no airs and graces”, recalls Newsholme. “He wasn’t just a supervisor who was distant, he was at the bench working with you. Those were extremely enjoyable times.”
Hannah Brown
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www.thelancet.com Vol 368 November 11, 2006