If you want a hint of what life is really like in Robert Sapolsky's lab, head into the lounge off the main office. Against one wall is a somewhat battered upright piano with a selection of classical sheet music. Against another is a well-worn gold corduroy couch with an old comforter on top. Perched on the piano is a piñata shaped like a lion.
It's not exactly a dot-com workplace, where twentysomethings plot marketing strategies from beanbag chairs and blow off steam at the foosball table. But this lab--where Sapolsky, a professor of biological sciences and veteran of the Salk Institute, and his staff are studying nerve-cell death--has a similar atmosphere of casual intensity. As many as 20 students and employees are at work at once, setting up tissue experiments, dissecting rat brains and crunching data. Their research is basic science that others might someday translate into treatments for stroke, Alzheimer's or depression.
In the so-called piano room, however, it becomes clear that life here isn't just about beakers and Bunsen burners. Accomplished musicians, including Sapolsky, play the piano on a regular basis. An occasional graduate student who is between housing assignments crashes overnight on the couch. Photos document hikes, parties and trips to research conferences.
Each piece of memorabilia is imbued with significance. The piñata is a reminder of a bright spot during one of the lab's toughest periods, in 1996. A grant that would have provided about $200,000 annually had just fallen through, and Sapolsky had to lay off employees. Some of the remaining researchers put aside pet projects to concentrate on work that would bring in money. Then, the staff heard that Sapolsky and his wife, who had encountered difficulties having a healthy child because of a genetic condition, were expecting Benjamin, now 4. They threw a party complete with the piñata, whose lion's mane resembles Sapolsky's own mop of curls. "People really pulled together," Sapolsky remembers.
And even though they're no longer navigating a rough patch, the lab members--from undergraduates to professional research assistants--still pull together. "In some labs there is a lot of animosity," notes Sheila Brooke, the most veteran employee with 11 years in the lab. Graduate student Mani Roy credits Sapolsky with fostering the camaraderie. "The tone is set by the leader, and [he] encourages collaboration." For his part, Sapolsky says he takes care to select students and employees who will get along well. Given that some of the shared workrooms are smaller than typical suburban bathrooms, they'd better.
