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James Watson, who co-discovered the DNA double helix when he was 24 years old, dies at 97

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James D. Watson, whose co-discovery of the twisted-ladder structure of DNA in 1953 helped light the long fuse on a revolution in medicine, crimefighting, genealogy and ethics, has died. He was 97.

The breakthrough — made when the brash, Chicago-born Watson was just 24 — turned him into a hallowed figure in the world of science for decades. But near the end of his life, he faced condemnation and professional censure for offensive remarks, including saying Black people are less intelligent than white people.

Watson shared a 1962 Nobel Prize with Francis Crick and Maurice Wilkins for discovering that deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA, is a double helix, consisting of two strands that coil around each other to create what resembles a long, gently twisting ladder.

That realization was a breakthrough. It instantly suggested how hereditary information is stored and how cells duplicate their DNA when they divide. The duplication begins with the two strands of DNA pulling apart like a zipper.

Even among non-scientists, the double helix would become an instantly recognized symbol of science, showing up in such places as the work of Salvador Dali and a British postage stamp.

The discovery helped open the door to more recent developments such as tinkering with the genetic makeup of living things, treating disease by inserting genes into patients, identifying human remains and criminal suspects from DNA samples, and tracing family trees and ancient human ancestors. But it has also raised a host of ethical questions, such as whether we should be altering the body’s blueprint for cosmetic reasons or in a way that is transmitted to a person’s offspring.

“Francis Crick and I made the discovery of the century, that was pretty clear,” Watson once said. He later wrote: “There was no way we could have foreseen the explosive impact of the double helix on science and society.”

Watson never made another lab finding that big. But in the decades that followed, he wrote influential textbooks and a best-selling memoir and helped guide the project to map the human genome. He picked out bright young scientists and helped them. And he used his prestige and contacts to influence science policy.

Watson died in hospice care after a brief illness, his son said Friday. His former research lab confirmed he passed away a day earlier.

“He never stopped fighting for people who were suffering from disease,” Duncan Watson said of his father.

Watson’s initial motivation for supporting the gene project was personal: His son Rufus had been hospitalized with a possible diagnosis of schizophrenia, and Watson figured that knowing the complete makeup of DNA would be crucial for understanding that disease — maybe in time to help his son.

He gained unwelcome attention in 2007, when the Sunday Times Magazine of London quoted him as saying he was “inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa” because “all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours — where all the testing says not really.” He said that while he hopes everyone is equal, “people who have to deal with Black employees find this is not true.”

He apologized, but after an international furor he was suspended from his job as chancellor of the prestigious Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory in New York. He retired a week later. He had served in various leadership jobs there for nearly 40 years.

In a television documentary that aired in early 2019, Watson was asked if his views had changed. “No, not at all,” he said. In response, the Cold Spring Harbor lab revoked several honorary titles it had given Watson, saying his statements were “reprehensible” and “unsupported by science.”

Watson’s combination of scientific achievement and controversial remarks created a complicated legacy.

He has shown “a regrettable tendency toward inflammatory and offensive remarks, especially late in his career,” Dr. Francis Collins, then-director of the National Institutes of Health, said in 2019. “His outbursts, particularly when they reflected on race, were both profoundly misguided and deeply hurtful. I only wish that Jim’s views on society and humanity could have matched his brilliant scientific insights.”

Long before that, Watson scorned political correctness.

“A goodly number of scientists are not only narrow-minded and dull, but also just stupid,” he wrote in “The Double Helix,” his bestselling 1968 book about the DNA discovery.

For success in science, he wrote: “You have to avoid dumb people. … Never do anything that bores you. … If you can’t stand to be with your real peers (including scientific competitors) get out of science. … To make a huge success, a scientist has to be prepared to get into deep trouble.”

It was in the fall of 1951 that the tall, skinny Watson — already the holder of a Ph.D. at 23 — arrived at Britain’s Cambridge University, where he met Crick. As a Watson biographer later said, “It was intellectual love at first sight.”

Crick himself wrote that the partnership thrived in part because the two men shared “a certain youthful arrogance, a ruthlessness, and an impatience with sloppy thinking.”

Together they sought to tackle the structure of DNA, aided by X-ray research by colleague Rosalind Franklin and her graduate student Raymond Gosling. Watson was later criticized for a disparaging portrayal of Franklin in “The Double Helix,” and today she is considered a prominent example of a female scientist whose contributions were overlooked. (She died in 1958.)

Watson and Crick built Tinker Toy-like models to work out the molecule’s structure. One Saturday morning in 1953, after fiddling with bits of cardboard he had carefully cut to represent fragments of the DNA molecule, Watson suddenly realized how these pieces could form the “rungs” of a double helix ladder.

His first reaction: “It’s so beautiful.”

Figuring out the double helix “goes down as one of the three most important discoveries in the history of biology,” alongside Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution through natural selection and Gregor Mendel’s fundamental laws of genetics, said Cold Spring Harbor lab’s president, Bruce Stillman.

Following the discovery, Watson spent two years at the California Institute of Technology, then joined the faculty at Harvard in 1955. Before leaving Harvard in 1976, he essentially created the university’s program for molecular biology, scientist Mark Ptashne recalled in a 1999 interview.

Watson became director of the Cold Spring Harbor lab in 1968, its president in 1994 and its chancellor 10 years later. He made the lab on Long Island an educational center for scientists and non-scientists, focused research on cancer, instilled a sense of excitement and raised huge amounts of money.

He transformed the lab into a “vibrant, incredibly important center,” Ptashne said. It was “one of the miracles of Jim: a more disheveled, less smooth, less typically ingratiating person you could hardly imagine.”

From 1988 to 1992, Watson directed the federal effort to identify the detailed makeup of human DNA. He created the project’s huge investment in ethics research by simply announcing it at a news conference. He later said it was “probably the wisest thing I’ve done over the past decade.”

Watson was on hand at the White House in 2000 for the announcement that the federal project had completed an important goal: a “working draft” of the human genome, basically a road map to an estimated 90 percent of human genes.

Researchers presented Watson with the detailed description of his own genome in 2007. It was one of the first genomes of an individual to be deciphered.

Watson knew that genetic research could produce findings that make some people uncomfortable. In 2007, he wrote that when scientists identify genetic variants that predispose people to crime or significantly affect intelligence, the findings should be publicized rather than squelched out of political correctness.

James Dewey Watson was born in Chicago on April 6, 1928, into “a family that believed in books, birds and the Democratic Party,” as he put it. From his birdwatcher father he inherited an interest in ornithology and a distaste for explanations that didn’t rely on reason or science.

Watson was a precocious child who loved to read, studying books like “The World Telegraph Almanac of Facts.” He entered the University of Chicago on a scholarship at 15, graduated at 19 and earned his doctorate in zoology at Indiana University three years later.

He got interested in genetics at age 17 when he read a book that said genes were the essence of life.

“I thought, ‘Well, if the gene is the essence of life, I want to know more about it,’” he later recalled. “And that was fateful because, otherwise, I would have spent my life studying birds and no one would have heard of me.”

At the time, it wasn’t clear that genes were made of DNA, at least for any life form other than bacteria. But Watson went to Europe to study the biochemistry of nucleic acids like DNA. At a conference in Italy, Watson saw an X-ray image that indicated DNA could form crystals.

“Suddenly I was excited about chemistry,” Watson wrote in “The Double Helix.” If genes could crystallize, “they must have a regular structure that could be solved in a straightforward fashion.”

“A potential key to the secret of life was impossible to push out of my mind,” he recalled.

In the decades after his discovery, Watson’s fame persisted. Apple Computer used his picture in an ad campaign. At conferences, graduate students who weren’t even born when he worked at Cambridge nudged each other and whispered, “There’s Watson. There’s Watson.” They got him to autograph napkins or copies of “The Double Helix.”

A reporter asked him 2018 if any building at the Cold Spring Harbor lab was named after him. No, Watson replied, “I don’t need a building named after me. I have the double helix.”

His 2007 remarks on race were not the first time Watson struck a nerve with his comments. In a speech in 2000, he suggested that sex drive is related to skin color. And earlier he told a newspaper that if a gene governing sexuality were found and could be detected in the womb, a woman who didn’t want to have a gay child should be allowed to have an abortion.

More than a half-century after winning the Nobel, Watson put the gold medal up for auction in 2014. The winning bid, $4.7 million, set a record for a Nobel. The medal was eventually returned to Watson.

Both of Watson’s Nobel co-winners, Crick and Wilkins, died in 2004.

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Ritter is a retired AP science writer. AP science writers Christina Larson in Washington and Adithi Ramakrishnan in New York contributed to this report.

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The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute’s Department of Science Education and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content.



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‘You have an entire culture, an entire community that is also having that same crisis’: Colorado coal town looks anxiously to the future

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The Cooper family knows how to work heavy machinery. The kids could run a hay baler by their early teens, and two of the three ran monster-sized drills at the coal mines along with their dad.

But learning to maneuver the shiny red drill they use to tap into underground heat feels different. It’s a critical part of the new family business, High Altitude Geothermal, which installs geothermal heat pumps that use the Earth’s constant temperature to heat and cool buildings. At stake is not just their livelihood but a century-long family legacy of producing energy in Moffat County.

Like many families here, the Coopers have worked in coal for generations — and in oil before that. That’s ending for Matt Cooper and his son Matthew as one of three coal mines in the area closes in a statewide shift to cleaner energy.

“People have to start looking beyond coal,” said Matt Cooper. “And that can be a multitude of things. Our economy has been so focused on coal and coal-fired power plants. And we need the diversity.”

Many countries and about half of U.S. states are moving away from coal, citing environmental impacts and high costs. Burning coal emits carbon dioxide that traps heat in the atmosphere, warming the planet.

President Donald Trump has boosted coal as part of his agenda to promote fossil fuels. He’s trying to save a declining industry with executive orderslarge sales of coal from public landsregulatory relief and offers of hundreds of millions of dollars to restore coal plants.

That’s created uncertainty in places like Craig. As some families like the Coopers plan for the next stage of their careers, others hold out hope Trump will save their plants, mines and high-paying jobs.

Matt and Matthew Cooper work at the Colowyo Mine near Meeker, though active mining has ended and site cleanup begins in January.

The mine employs about 130 workers and supplies Craig Generating Station, a 1,400-megawatt coal-fired plant. Tri-State Generation and Transmission Association is planning to close Craig’s Unit 1 by year’s end for economic reasons and to meet legal requirements for reducing emissions. The other two units will close in 2028.

Xcel Energy owns coal-fired Hayden Station, about 30 minutes away. It said it doesn’t plan to change retirement dates for Hayden, though it’s extending another coal unit in Pueblo in part due to increased demand for electricity.

The Craig and Hayden plants together employ about 200 people.

Craig residents have always been entrepreneurial and that spirit will get them through this transition, said Kirstie McPherson, board president for the Craig Chamber of Commerce. Still, she said, just about everybody here is connected to coal.

“You have a whole community who has always been told you are an energy town, you’re a coal town,” she said. “When that starts going away, beyond just the individuals that are having the identity crisis, you have an entire culture, an entire community that is also having that same crisis.”

Phasing out coal

Coal has been central to Colorado’s economy since before statehood, but it’s generally the most expensive energy on today’s grid, said Democratic Gov. Jared Polis.

“We are not going to let this administration drag us backwards into an overreliance on expensive fossil fuels,” Polis said in a statement.

Nationwide, coal power was 28% more expensive in 2024 than it was in 2021, costing consumers $6.2 billion more, according to a June analysis from Energy Innovation. The nonpartisan think tank cited significant increases to run aging plants as well as inflation.

Colorado’s six remaining coal-fired power plants are scheduled to close or convert to natural gas, which emits about half the carbon dioxide as coal, by 2031. The state is rapidly adding solar and wind that’s cheaper and cleaner than legacy coal plants. Renewable energy provides more than 40% of Colorado’s power now and will pass 70% by the end of the decade, according to statewide utility plans.

Nationwide, wind and solar growth has remained strong, producing more electricity than coal in 2025, as of the latest data in October, according to energy think tank Ember.

But some states want to increase or at least maintain coal production. That includes top coal state Wyoming, where the Wyoming Energy Authority said Trump is breathing welcome new life into its coal and mining industry.

Planning for the future

The Coopers have gone all-in on geothermal.

“Maybe we’ll never go back to coal,” Matt Cooper said. “We haven’t (gone) back to oil and gas, so we might just be geothermal people for quite some time, maybe generations, and then eventually something else will come along.”

While the Coopers were learning to use their drill in October, Wade Gerber was in downtown Craig distilling grain neutral spirits — used to make gin and vodka — on a day off from the Craig Station power plant. Gerber stepped over his corgis, Ali and Boss, and onto a stepladder to peer into a massive stainless steel pot where he was heating wheat and barley.

Gerber’s spent three decades in coal. When closure plans were announced four years ago, he, his wife Tenniel and their friend McPherson brainstormed business ideas.

“With my background in plumbing and electrical from the plant it’s like, oh yeah, I can handle that part of it,” Gerber said about distilling. “This is the easy part.”

He used Tri-State’s education subsidies for classes in distilling, while other co-workers learned to fix vehicles or repair guns to find new careers. While some plan to leave town, Gerber is opening Bad Alibi Distillery. McPherson and Tenniel Gerber are opening a cocktail bar next door.

Everyone in town hopes Trump will step in to extend the plant’s life, Gerber said. Meanwhile, they’re trying to define a new future for Craig in a nerve-wracking time.

“For me, my products can go elsewhere. I don’t necessarily have to sell it in Craig, there’s that avenue. For someone relying on Craig, it’s even scarier,” he said.

Questioning the coal rollback

Tammy Villard owns a gift shop, Moffat Mercantile, with her husband. After the coal closures were announced, they opened a commercial print shop too, seeing it as a practical choice for when so many high-paying jobs go away.

Villard, who spent a decade at Colowyo as administrative staff, said she doesn’t understand how the state can throw the switch to turn off coal and still have reliable electricity. She wants the state to slow down.

Villard describes herself as a moderate Republican. She said political swings at the federal level — from the green energy push in the last administration to doubling down on fossil fuels in this one — aren’t helpful.

“The pendulum has to come back to the middle,” she said, “and we are so far out to either side that I don’t know how we get back to that middle.”

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The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content.



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Netflix’s $5.8 billion breakup fee for Warner among largest ever

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Netflix Inc.’s $72 billion acquisition of Warner Bros. Discovery Inc. includes one of the biggest breakup fees of all time — a $5.8 billion penalty that Netflix has agreed to pay its target if the deal falls apart or fails to win regulatory approval.

At 8% of the deal’s equity value, the fee is well above the average even in big-ticket dealmaking, signaling Netflix executives’ confidence they can convince global antitrust watchdogs to let the transaction go ahead. The average breakup fee in 2024 was equal to about 2.4% of the total transaction value, according to a report from Houlihan Lokey.

Netflix’s multibillion-dollar pledge is also a sign of how heated the bidding war got for control of the iconic Hollywood studio. As part of a sweetened proposal earlier this week, rival suitor Paramount Skydance Corp. had more than doubled the proposed breakup fee in its offer to $5 billion.

Warner Bros., meanwhile, would have to pay a $2.8 billion reverse breakup fee if its shareholders vote down the deal. If Warner Bros. were to accept a rival offer, the new buyer, in effect, would be on the hook for that fee.

Here are some of the biggest breakup fees in M&A history, according to data compiled by Bloomberg:

AOL/Time Warner Inc.

Deal value: $160 billion 

America Online Inc. agreed to pay a fee of about $5.4 billion if it backed out of its agreement to buy Time Warner Inc. Time Warner would pay about $3.9 billion if it broke up the transaction under certain conditions.

Percentage of deal value: 3.4%

Outcome: Completed

Pfizer/Allergan

Deal value: $160 billion

The breakup fee could have been as high as $3.5 billion, but the merger had a contingency that it would be lower if there were changes to tax law. Pfizer ended up paying just $150 million after the US cracked down on corporate tax inversions 

Percentage of deal value: 2.2% (but paid less than 0.1%)

Outcome: Terminated

Verizon/Verizon Wireless

Deal Value: $130 billion

Breakup Fee: This deal for Vodafone’s stake in Verizon Wireless was complicated. Verizon promised to pay a breakup fee to Vodafone of $10 billion if it couldn’t get financing for the deal, or $4.64 billion if its board changed its recommendation to shareholders to vote in favor of the transaction. Meanwhile, Vodafone would have owed $1.55 billion to Verizon if its board changed its mind, and either side would have had to pay $1.55 billion to the other if shareholders turned down the transaction. Vodafone also would have had to pay that $1.55 billion if an unfavorable tax ruling made it too onerous to complete the deal. 

Percentage of deal value: 7.7%

Outcome: Deal completed

AB InBev/SAB Miller

Deal value: $103 billion

Breakup fee: AB InBev agreed to pay a breakup fee of $3 billion if it failed to get approval from regulators or shareholders and instead walked away from what was then the biggest corporate takeover in UK history. 

Percentage of deal value: 2.9% 

Outcome: Completed

AT&T/T-Mobile USA

Deal Value: $39 billion 

Breakup fee: AT&T agreed to pay Deutsche Telekom a $3 billion breakup fee in cash, as well as transferring radio spectrum to T-Mobile and striking a more favorable network-sharing agreement. 

Percentage of deal value: 7.7%

Outcome: Withdrawn after regulatory opposition

Google/Wiz

Deal value: $32 billion

The companies agreed that Google would pay a breakup fee of about $3.2 billion — a huge chunk of the transaction value — if the deal didn’t close.

Percentage of deal value: 10% 

Outcome: Completed



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A Thanksgiving dealmaking sprint helped Netflix win Warner Bros.

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The Netflix Inc. plans that clinched the deal for Warner Bros. Discovery Inc. started to shape up around Thanksgiving. 

deadline was looming: Warner Bros. had asked bidders, which also included Paramount Skydance Corp. and Comcast Corp., to have their latest proposals and contracts in by the Monday after the holiday, following a round about a week earlier. The suitors were told to put their best foot forward.

While most Americans were watching football and feasting on turkey, Netflix executives and advisers hunkered down to finalize a binding offer and a $59 billion bridge loan from banks, one of the biggest of its kind. That gave the streaming company the ammunition to make a mostly cash-and-stock bid that helped it prevail over Comcast and David Ellison’s Paramount, according to people familiar with the matter.

The resulting $72 billion deal, announced Friday, is set to bring about a seismic shift in the entertainment business — if it can survive intense regulatory scrutiny and a potential fight from Paramount. This account of Netflix’s surprise victory in the biggest M&A auction of the year is based on interviews with half a dozen people involved in negotiations. They asked not to be identified because the details are confidential.

The sales process had kicked off with several unsolicited bids from Paramount Skydance, itself a newly formed company after a merger this year orchestrated by Ellison. He’s now the studio’s chief executive officer and controlling shareholder, with backing from his father, Oracle Corp. billionaire Larry Ellison. 

Paramount’s early move gave it a head start in the bidding process weeks before other would-be buyers got access to information. But the post-Thanksgiving deadline for second-round bids became a turning point by giving Netflix time to catch up and assemble the documents it needed, some of the people said. And since the streaming giant was bred in the fast-paced ethos of Silicon Valley, it could move quickly. 

When the binding bids arrived that Monday, Netflix’s offer emerged as superior, the people said.

One issue was the Warner Bros. camp had doubts about how Paramount would pay for the company, which owns sprawling Hollywood studios, the HBO network and a vast film and TV library. Paramount’s offer included financing from Apollo Global Management Inc. and several Middle Eastern funds, and it had conveyed that its bid was fully backstopped by the Ellisons. Still, Warner Bros. executives were privately concerned about the certainty of the financing, people familiar with the matter said.

Representatives for Netflix and Warner Bros. declined to comment.

‘Noble’ vs ‘Prince’

In the weeks leading up to the finale, Warner Bros. advisers set up war rooms at various hotels in midtown Manhattan. A core group holed up at the Loews Regency, which has long been a convening spot for the city’s movers and shakers.

Inside Warner Bros., the situation was known as “Project Sterling.” The company called itself by the code name “Wonder.” The team referred to Netflix as “Noble,” while Paramount was “Prince” and Comcast was “Charm.”

At Netflix, Chief Financial Officer Spencer Neumann served as the point man while corporate development head Devorah Bertucci organized people day-to-day. Chief Legal Officer David Hyman and Spencer Wang, vice president of finance, investor relations and corporate development, also were key architects, with all of them reporting into co-CEOs Ted Sarandos and Greg Peters.

The contours of the deal were shaped in a way befitting of a tech company: mostly over video chat or phone rather than in person. Virtual war rooms were set up. While strategizing or discussing diligence on Zoom, participants would raise virtual hands or make suggestions over chat rather than unmuting and slowing down the meeting. Google Docs were used to review and edit documents together in real time.

Talks heated up this week, with Warner Bros. advisers in continuous dialogue with the bidders and negotiating contract language and value. Comcast said it would merge its NBCUniversal division with Warner Bros. Paramount offered to more than double its proposed breakup fee to $5 billion to sweeten its deal and outshine rivals. 

In the end, Warner Bros. determined Netflix had the best offer and the company was the most flexible on key terms. On Wednesday, Paramount lobbed an aggressively worded letter to Warner Bros. board saying the sales process was “tainted.” It also identified what it saw as regulatory risks in the Netflix proposal, one sign that a winning outcome was slipping away for Paramount. 

Netflix found out Thursday evening New York time that it had won. Executives and advisers were assembled on a video call when they got the official word, sparking a moment of jubilation before everyone snapped into action. By 10:25 p.m., Bloomberg News broke the news that a deal was imminent. 

Even Sarandos made it sound like the ending was a twist on a conference call with investors. “I know some of you are surprised that we’re making this acquisition, and I certainly understand why,” he said. “Over the years, we have been known to be builders, not buyers.”

Regardless of whether Paramount reemerges to try and top the bid, Netflix will have work ahead of it. It has agreed to pay a $5.8 billion breakup fee to Warner Bros. if the transaction fails on regulatory grounds. The company also has to digest its largest acquisition ever.

“It’s going to be a lot of hard work,” co-CEO Peters said on the conference call. “We’re not experts at doing large-scale M&A, but we’ve done a lot of things historically that we didn’t know how to do.”



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