It made perfect sense to Ted Cohen to walk up 12 flights of stairs to his chemistry lab at the University of Pittsburgh but then take the elevator back down.
It was rational to carry fresh cilantro, lemon juice packets and a pepper grinder at all times to ensure that food was flavorful.
When Mr. Cohen, who took a power nap every day on his office couch, wondered why his daughter Rima Cohen couldn’t do the same at her work — after all, she too loved taking naps — he found her logic to be lacking.
“Dad, I can’t in the office,” Ms. Cohen would say.
“That’s crazy — of course you can.”
Her father, who died Dec. 13 at age 88, was such an earnest eccentric that he didn’t see his quirks as such.
Walking up the stairs is better exercise than walking down.
Food tastes better with fresh herbs and spices, and a pinch of lemon.
For someone who worked seven days a week well into his 80s and returned to the lab after dinner each night, a 30-minute mid-day nap was essential.
Birthdays and anniversaries were arbitrary intervals of time that didn’t merit the hubbub.
What occupied Mr. Cohen’s brain was invention.
Justin Chalker, now a senior lecturer at Flinders University in Australia, once said of Mr. Cohen in a Pitt University Times story that “he showed me that there is incredible aesthetic value and artistry in inventing and discovering new chemical reactions, making molecules that no one has ever made before, or making existing ones with unprecedented ease.”
He loved “discovering new chemistry,” said Dennis Curran, Bayer professor of chemistry at Pitt, who had worked with Mr. Cohen since the early 1980s.
“One of the things he was famous for was organosulfur compounds,” he said. Mr. Cohen had invented a method to convert these typically stable compounds into highly reactive ones, which made it possible to transform them into new materials.
Theodore Cohen was born in Boston on May 11, 1929. His father was a British-born furrier and Mr. Cohen was the first person in his family to go to college.
“I never was one of those geeks who really loved science,” Mr. Cohen once told the Pitt University Times in 2006.
But he did like chemistry and credited Isaac Asimov with steering him in the direction of research.
No, really.
During summer breaks from Tufts University, he waited tables at a Massachusetts resort where Mr. Asimov vacationed. The two became friendly and when Mr. Cohen wondered if he should apply to medical school or get a Ph.D., Mr. Asimov told him “anybody can be a doctor, but a real great mind would get a Ph.D. in chemistry.”
At least that’s how Mr. Cohen remembered it in stories he’d tell over the years.
Another seed was being planted at that Massachusetts camp 63 years ago. Mr. Cohen was falling for a New York bookworm named Pearl Silverman, in plain view of Mr. Asimov who put their budding romance and its awkward turns to music.The famous writer also wrote the lyrics to an end-of-summer show that the staff performed for patrons.
“Poor Ted’s in bed. He’s lonely but well read,” one of the songs went.
In the end, Mr. Cohen got his girl. They couple headed off to Los Angeles where Mr. Cohen attended the University of Southern California and made money as an extra in movies starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.
Then it was off to Glasgow for a Fulbright scholarship, where the pair hobnobbed with Sylvia Plath, who was part of the same Fulbright class.
When, in 1956, Mr. Cohen accepted a job at the University of Pittsburgh sight unseen, his wife opened the Encyclopedia Britannica and broke into tears.
She was promised a more glamorous life than the pictures of people holding up black T-shirts at mid-day portended.
But the couple took to Pittsburgh right away and ended up loving the city so much that Mr. Cohen declined numerous opportunities at other universities to stay here.
When Mr. Cohen was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, he was frustrated that while painless, the illness made him tired. He didn’t want to spend as much time sleeping as his body was demanding.
He died at the Charles Morris Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Squirrel Hill, after 15 months of hospice care during which he insisted on taking daily walks outside.
In addition to his wife Pearl of Squirrel Hill and daughter Rima of Washington D.C., Mr. Cohen is survived by his son Bret Cohen of Germany, and two granddaughters.
A private memorial service will be held at Heinz Chapel on Jan. 14.
Anya Litvak: alitvak@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1455.
First Published: December 26, 2017, 5:05 a.m.
Updated: December 26, 2017, 5:05 a.m.