October 1, 1999
Late S.J. inventor's rare spin on birthing wins Ig Nobel Prize
Rare spin on infant delivery `honored'BY GEOFFREY TOMB Mercury News Staff Writer
Of all the titanic achievements and technical advances
to emerge from the fertile minds of Silicon Valley, none compares to the
Blonsky birthing device. Now, finally, the world has recognized its inventor,
the late George Blonsky of San Jose.
Blonsky and his late wife are winners of the 1999 Ig Nobel Prize, an international award from Harvard University for one-of-a-kind inventions that "cannot or should not be reproduced."
The Blonsky invention -- never built and never tested -- spins a pregnant woman at high speed in an effort to aid delivery.
The Igs, given annually for dubious scientific achievement, were presented Thursday night in Boston, with the final big award being accepted by Blonsky's niece, Gale Sturtevant of Saratoga.
"We're all a little stunned by this," said Sturtevant, a retired dental hygienist.
And why not. Most of the world remains bewildered when considering the Blonsky, known officially as "Apparatus For Facilitating The Birth Of A Child by Centrifugal Force," under U.S. Patent Number 3,216,423 issued on Nov. 9, 1965, to George and Charlotte Blonsky.
Patent language for the Blonsky includes an eight-page minutely detailed description of the device plus graphic drawings.
"Well, he could bore you with words," recalls Gale Sturtevant of Uncle George.
The Blonsky resembles something from the Inquisition.
"Or perhaps the Russian space program," said Dr. Andrea Dunaif of Brigham & Women's Hospital at Harvard, who will evaluate the Blonsky for the Igs during a follow-up seminar on Monday.
An about-to-deliver woman is strapped to a frame which is then rotated at high speed, subjecting the mother and fetus to centrifugal force. This "counteracts the atmospheric pressure" and exerts "considerable propelling force" to deliver the baby. A net is built in to catch the out-flying baby.
No scale model is known to exist. Gale Sturtevant said many of her uncle's papers and records are stored in her garage in Saratoga, but she has never gone through them.
A retired mining engineer born in China of Russian parents, he was residing in San Jose when he died in 1985. His widow, known as Aunt Lotte, died in 1998 in a nursing home in Cupertino. They were childless.
Yet their invention seems to live on, attracting a cult following. Some of the scientific community at Harvard has been trying for years to locate the brains behind the Blonsky.
"This device is not a totally unknown thing among odd patents," said Marc Abrahams, of the Annals of Improbable Research, a publication which calls itself the MAD Magazine of science. He contacted the Sturtevants last month.
"Uncle George was undoubtedly the most intelligent person I have ever met," said Gale Sturtevant's husband, Don. "His mind was always active. But we weren't aware that he had a patent on anything."
They also seemed unaware of the award's tongue in cheek humor and spoof of the real Nobel, agreeing to pay their own way to Boston to attend the Ig ceremonies, which attracted an audience of 1,200, many of whom launched paper airplanes during the evening.
"I wouldn't want to degrade Uncle George," said Don Sturtevant hours before he left for Boston. Too late.
So how does the Blonsky compare to past Ig Nobel winners? How does it stack up against last year's awards for safety engineering given to a man who invented and personally tested a 147-pound titanium-plated suit of armor that is impervious to grizzly bears and the biology award that went to a Pennsylvania college professor for testing the happiness levels of clams given Prozac?
"Certain achievements are compared to mountains," said Abrahams, master of ceremonies of the Igs. "They are said to be of the top of the mountain. Then there are some very few that have their own mountain. This is one of them."
In fact, the Blonsky was saved for the last of this year's 10 Igs, because in the words of Abrahams, "nothing could follow it."
Nothing should. Blonsky's engineering specifications limited gravitational force to no more than seven times the power of gravity. Most astronauts black out at speeds of between four and five.
"This kid is going to have quite an entry into the world," said Abrahams, who also wondered whether the obstetrician should wear a catcher's mitt to snare the baby.
But the biggest question is where did the late great Blonsky get his idea?
For this we turn to his niece.
"The Bronx Zoo," she said. Take that, Berkeley and Stanford.
The Blonskys spent many years in New York, where Charlotte worked for the city. They lived in the Bronx, and George was fond of visiting the zoo, said his niece.
Once he noticed a pregnant elephant who began to spin herself just before delivery.
"He went back to the drawing board and came up with this design and got a patent for it," said Don Sturtevant.
"In theory, you know, the idea might work," said Gale Sturtevant.
Dr. Dunaif, who once delivered a baby in the back seat of a taxi cab, called the Blonsky "well-intentioned."
As are the Ig Nobels.
"The Igs are intended to celebrate the unusual, honor the imaginative and spur people's interest in science -- both good and bad," said Abrahams. This year's bash was attended by seven of the 10 winners, including the Sturtevants. All paid their own way, coming from as far as Japan, Korea, Norway and England.
And the Igs were handed to the winners by a squad of four actual Nobel laureates.
Gale Sturtevant said this sudden interest in her uncle's genius may inspire her to go through his papers, perhaps to discover other inventions.
"He had a phenomenally creative mind," she said.