June 19, 1998

Two Doctors Hope Toys
Will Fuel Cancer Wars

By THOMAS PETZINGER JR.

BRUCE BRYAN, a surgeon, and Gene Finley, an oncologist, think they may have a new weapon in the war against cancer. It's a squirt gun.

Not just any squirt gun, mind you. Theirs shoots glow-in-the-dark water.

They've also created luminescent cake frosting, radiant hair mousse and greeting cards with lettering like neon. "Watch this," says an associate in a lab coat, swallowing a beaker full of glowing soda pop. "It's protein. Totally harmless!"

Drs. Bryan and Finley run a small company called Prolume Ltd., which has prototyped these products by cloning genes from luminous sea creatures -- jelly fish, algae and other critters that glow in the dark. What has that got to do with cancer? In the most bizarre business model I've seen in a while, they hope novelty products will finance new technologies to research and treat malignancies, including a substance to make tumors glow.

The two Californians, now 43, share a history of far-out schemes. They grew up as the mad scientists of Beverly Hills High, two rich kids from broken homes with a passion for experimenting. They drew blood from each other by syringe for immunology experiments. Using a veterinary manual and barbiturates, they performed emergency surgery on Bruce's sheltie after it was hit by a car. Once, they conducted a midnight dive at Zuma Beach, where a colony of luminescent algae was in full bloom. Swimming through the cascade of light was an experience neither would forget.

Dr. Finley landed on the faculty of the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center and in an oncology practice at the V.A. hospital here, where he studies the genetics of colon cancer. Dr. Bryan, meanwhile, made some money in real estate, quit his surgery practice in Arizona, began doing pro bono medicine in the Dominican Republic and adopted a low-overhead lifestyle aboard a houseboat.

ONE EVENING during a power outage not long ago, Dr. Bryan opened a beer. Wouldn't it be cool, he thought, if the beer glowed? Flashing back 25 years to that night at Zuma Beach, he phoned his old friend in Pittsburgh, and Prolume Ltd. was in business.

The two doctors, Bruce Bryan and Gene Finley, have seen the light.

Dr. Bryan was soon plying the oceans on a $10,000-a-day research vessel (paid for from his savings), trolling to depths of a half-mile in search of luminous species -- like panning for gold, except that the treasure was DNA. Then, Dr. Finley assembled a team of researchers, some working for equity, others for modest salaries (also from Dr. Bryan's pocket).

Before long, the scientists had created DNA libraries for 25 sea creatures. They identified the gene for luminescence in three of the organisms (with a fourth scheduled for completion soon). The genes were spliced into protein-making bacteria, which multiplied by the billions. (Soon they'll clone with yeast as well.)

Meanwhile, other team members found a way to put the glowing proteins on a silicon chip for possible use in bacterial detection. Some began studying how to make tumors glow with the special proteins, perhaps one day to make malignancies easier to detect and remove.

Bringing such medical products to completion will consume years of work and millions of dollars. That's where the novelty products are supposed to come in -- and novel they are. "You ought to see what we do to V-8," says Byron Ballou, another veteran cancer researcher who is moonlighting at Prolume.

Then there is the squirt gun. Crowded into a dark closet with a couple of biology Ph.D.s, I splattered the walls (as well as the biologists) with a stain-free glow so bright I could have read the box scores. A key breakthrough came when a Czech research partner in New Jersey found an economical way to synthesize the organic molecule that sea organisms use to fuel their light shows, drastically reducing the cost of the squirt-gun water. "The squirt gun," says Dr. Finley, "is the killer app."

THE LOW-TECH novelties, unfortunately, have proved as challenging as the futuristic medicine. Marketing glow-in-the-dark food and cosmetics will demand years before the FDA. And even though the basic chemistry is well developed, engineering a two-chamber mixing system for a cheap squirt gun has proven more costly and difficult than forecast.

"We're pretty strapped now," says Dr. Bryan. Seeking major corporate partners has been futile in food and toys, industries notorious for slow innovation. And in a world of extreme technology specialization, venture capitalists are befuddled by a company whose trademarks range from SlimeLight to TumorLight.

Consultants usually tell start-ups to concentrate on a single application -- any application -- and forget everything else for a while. But in Prolume's case, the company's scattershot approach brought together a diverse team whose members feed on one another's specialties. It led to a priceless genetic library and an inventory of actual prototypes, any one of which could open a revenue spigot. If Prolume survives, it will be through attempting many things at once.

Indeed, the company already collects some revenue selling its squirt-gun fuel molecules to researchers in other areas. Separately, a genetics company is studying the use of Prolume's products in lab supplies and drug research. And while the killer-app squirt gun remains in development, Prolume will soon market packages of slimy, glowing rocks for kids. It calls them Alien Jewels.