In January 1970, the first issue of a journal bearing the above title appeared on the shelves of some university and hospital libraries. The numbers were not large, and the locations were predominantly in North America. Actually, the first sentence is not quite accurate, because what appears above was preceded by the letters CRC, the acronym of Chemical Rubber Company, based in Boca Raton, Florida, USA. The company was then a major force in chemistry, proud publisher of a series of handbooks that were holy writ to scientists in virtually all disciplines at the time and with which no working laboratory could be without.
The journal in question was one of a whole series launched from the same source around the same time, differing in name only in the subject matter purported to be covered. This initiative was accompanied by a series of authoritative but expensive monographs in the biomedical field that were beyond the means of private individuals but highly sought after by these impecunious souls through their institutions that, in those halcyon days, were much better placed than they are today to respond to the extravagant whims of their constituents. This financial recklessness was compounded by the absence of sponsorship by scientific societies and by the fact that these journals refused to sully their pristine pages with anything that smelled of money, such as advertisements or announcements. CRC paid the eventual price, but in more ways than one.
Apart from the publishers themselves, the founding fathers and joint editors were John W King, MD, PhD, of the Cleveland Clinic, and Willard R Faulkner, PhD, from Vanderbilt Medical Center. One has to admire their energy and vision. The very first issue (Vol 1, Pt 1 ) had no fewer than 192 pages and 15 “articles”. Seven of these were full reviews (the longest contained 46 pages and the shortest only five), and the remaining items were fillers of various sorts, including abstracts of future papers, a catalogue of clinical references, and a Classification of Standard Reagents for Enteroviruses. Gradually, these utilitarian distractions were phased out, and the content became restricted to full reviews, as the journal title demanded. The year of its birth coincided with a period of particularly explosive growth in the laboratory sciences, fuelled by earlier advances in the basic sciences, and there was a real need for something more insightful than a merely descriptive account of advances and new developments in the various fields. What was required was an expert and critical author who, by separating the wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats, and the ducks from the geese, could stand egalitarianism on its head, drawing attention to those papers and their respective authors whose work was most worthy of attention and emulation. This wishful thought has been fulfilled sufficiently often over the ensuing years to raise the journal to the pinnacle of its class in comparative awareness surveys.
King and Faulkner, from the very beginning, introduced some important innovations that have stood the test of time. First of all, each author and his chosen topic were carefully selected and the subject of a personal invitation. Each paper was scrutinized by an expert referee in an open review process. The name of the referee appeared below that of the authors, and he was paid a token honorarium, but in many instances he received more than he had bargained for: credit as a coauthor of the paper. This practice is rampant throughout the early and middle periods of the journal in the electronic editions posted on the Informa website, but, fortunately, the PubMed abstracts have avoided this error. Neither do the dates of the various volumes always correspond between these sources and the printed version. Compilers of bibliographies should take heed. The table of contents included a synopsis (not a summary ) of the paper and a brief biography of the authors. The former has now evolved into the Statement of Significance, and authors must be judged by their present work without biographical knowledge of their past accomplishments.
The second issue (Vol 1, Pt 2) leaned heavily in the direction of hematology, and, of the nine papers comprising Vol 1, Pt 3, no fewer than seven concerned various aspects of hemoglobin. The other disciplines within the laboratory sciences were more evenly distributed, and the authors, albeit exclusively from North America, were among the most renowned in their fields. In Vol 1, Pt 4, which brought the page count for the year to 684, the American monopoly was broken with three of the five papers coming wholly or in part from UK institutions. The following year, Vol 2 ended with 658 pages. Thereafter the number steadily declined to 451 for Vol 4. The reviews per issue ranged from two to three, but Vol 4, Pt 2 was exclusively devoted to a single review of 125 pages of the Assessment of Nutritional Status. From time to time, this feat has been emulated and provides a useful outlet for important monographs that would otherwise have to risk the obscurity that too frequently dulls the impact of scientific books that do not have access to the various citation indexes.
The distinction of the contributing authors was fully maintained. Dominated by the English-speaking world, they were the elite of their professions. Two, Baruch Blumberg and Charles Huggins, were Nobel Laureates, and many believe that a third, Robert C Gallo, should have been in that company. But signs of strain crept in. 1974 saw the publication of only two issues, Vol 5, Pts 1 and 2, totalling 244 pages. The first part was a strange affair. An hors d’oeuvre devoted to the laboratory diagnosis of syphilis was succeeded by 22 papers on abnormal hemoglobins presented in 1973 at a WHO conference on standardization of laboratory methods and reagents held in Atlanta, Georgia. Together with a preface and an introduction, the entire compilation ran to only 99 pages, stretching the definition of a “critical review” beyond the breaking point. Although this folly was not repeated, it did have the side effect of allowing scientists from Germany, Greece, Yugoslavia, and Thailand to display their wares, albeit in miniature form. 1975 saw the publication of the remaining two parts of Vol 5, raising the page count for that volume to 333, and the first three parts of Vol 6. There followed another slow year in 1976, during which only Vol 6, Pt 4, and Vol 7, Pt 1, appeared. The following year witnessed a frenzy of publication (Vol 7, Pts 1—3 and Vol 8, Pts 1—4), bringing the schedule up to date, and 1978 remained on target.
Since its inauguration, the journal had succeeded in cutting the number of reviews and pages per volume by half. In itself, this is not difficult to achieve. With a little help from idle authors, tardy referees, and parsimonious publishers, it can be done easily enough, without even taking account of the other professional and personal pressures to which editorial attention is prone. Without making a doctoral dissertation out of the analysis, it seems clear that these periods of feast and famine were first and foremost a reflection of the difficulty in persuading scientists to adhere to publishing deadlines when they are already subject in their lives to so many other deadlines: the next grant application; the next lecture; the next clinical session; the next international conference. What can be said without prejudice is that, throughout these years, the quality of the papers and the eminence of the authors left nothing to be desired. The one disappointing aspect was the failure to attract a cadre of authors from countries, especially European, whose first language is not English.
In 1976, Drs King and Faulkner ceased to be editors. Their replacements were Dr John Batsakis from the University of Michigan, who, during his long and productive tenure, moved first to Portland, Maine, and subsequently to the University of Texas; and Dr John Savory from the University of North Carolina, who later made a single, shorter, and less expensive transition to the University of Virginia. A change in editors without overlap or continuity is never easy, doubly and trebly so when there is no editorial board to help bridge the gap. It is remarkable that, under these circumstances, the journal continued to operate smoothly and at a high standard with only the occasional brief hiccough. Indeed, the number of issues per year rose, albeit somewhat unsteadily, to reach a crescendo of 11 in 1981, comprising Vol 13, Pts 3 and 4; Vol 14, Pts 1–4; Vol 15, Pts 1–4; and Vol 16, Pt 1. Thereafter, volumes averaging 350 total pages and with each of the four parts containing about three reviews continued to appear at the rate of two per year, but the dates of publication paid scant respect to the Gregorian calendar, with many volumes straddling two consecutive years. The different branches of laboratory nedicine were treated to even-handed exposure. The authors and referees continued to remain predominantly North American, although in 1982 an accepted paper managed to make the hazardous journey all the way from Australia and in 1988 the first full review by an Italian author was published. Some anomalies in the peer-review system of the time would raise eyebrows nowadays and a chorus of “conflict of interest”, but in that relaxed era it was not unknown for the author and the referee to come from the same institution and even from the same laboratory. To cap this, one example exists where the author and the referee share the exact same name, down to the same middle initial, although they are credited with being attached to two different institutions: a case, perhaps, of changing horses in midstream.
The lack of core advisors beyond the two editors was resolved in 1981 with the appointment of an editorial advisory board numbering eight eminent scientists which, by 1990, had grown to 14 members. Like the authors and referees, they continued to come almost exclusively from the North American continent, and their expertise covered all branches of laboratory medicine. In 1989 (Vol 27), the number of parts per volume had risen to six ( 541 total pages ), a watershed in the history of the journal that was followed by a brief decline. Although Keywords were introduced for the first time in 1990 (Vol 28), this innovation coincided with the disappearance of the referees from the named personnel associated with the paper, and it is not certain what critical scrutiny, if any, the manuscripts received prior to publication. Moreover, it took the whole of the following year, 1991, to complete Vol 28 and bring it to a total of 459 pages.
Under Batsakis and Savory, the journal had made a great leap forward, and it could not be surprising that, after 16 years at the helm, the energies of the editors and their ability to pump the requisite amount of adrenaline when required had gradually waned. The publishing vehicle that they had carefully redesigned and restructured now fell into Canadian hands in the shape of Dr J Thomas Hindmarsh of the University of Ottawa and Dr David M Goldberg of the University of Toronto, and in 1992 the editorial offices crossed the 49th Parallel. The link with Boca Raton remained a little friable on occasions, but communication generally remained cordial and effective, increasing use being made of electronic techniques in all aspects of journal production, from submission to proof correction to the posting of an internet edition around 1998. For the next three years, a period of retrenchment ensued, with one volume, each comprising four parts, appearing annually, but by 1995 the number had returned to six parts and has remained there ever since.
Some benefit in continuity accrued from the existence of the editorial advisory board. On their appointment, Hindmarsh and Goldberg reduced the number to 11 but added an associate editor, Dr WHC (“Chris”) Walker of McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario. The maple leaf had all but eliminated the Stars and Stripes. This was more than mere geographical concentration. Not only were these three individuals compressed into a small corner of Canada; all were born and trained in the UK and their laboratory speciality was in all instances clinical biochemistry. This was bound to have serious implications for the tone and content of the journal. Papers covering other areas, such as microbiology and hematology, became progressively scarce. By 1992, the paradigm shift in diagnostic chemistry emphasizing the supremacy of analytical mechanization and automation employing packaged reagents had become a total reality. Scientific creativity in the hospital domain was virtually stifled, and most innovation originated in the laboratories of industrial and commercial companies. But a parallel, albeit antithetical, development was also gathering momentum: the impact of molecular biology upon laboratory procedures across all the constituent disciplines. The editors were quick to recognize this profound phenomenon and embraced it enthusiastically. In so doing, they moved the focus of the journal away from its anchorage in the mainstream of patient diagnosis and treatment to the more fundamental considerations of etiology and pathogenesis, building a bridge between the basic and applied elements of molecular laboratory medicine in the process.
It is not inaccurate to describe the journal as providing more than a bird’s eye view of the cutting edge of the clinical laboratory sciences, although it is somewhat regrettable but not surprising that disciplines other than biochemistry were sparsely represented. After all, molecular biology is an operational exercise in chemistry irrespective of the name on the door of the laboratory in which this is being performed, and it was surmized that bringing its concepts and technical basis to the attention of all laboratory scientists would enhance and expedite its exploitation. There may be something in this. For one thing, the visibility and importance of the journal has grown by leaps and bounds since then, to the point that, in 2007, it was placed first in its category by Impact Factor in the Thomson Organization Survey, having been in second place the year before and rating in second place the year after. Sad to say, this enviable status has not translated into increased sales.
A more universal benefit that accrued since 1992 is that the journal became truly global, with contributions streaming in from every corner of the planet. At last, it had broken out of its North American shell. How had this happened? One explanation is that the editors, having originated on the other side of the Atlantic, had much wider international connections than the four who preceded them. Thus they were able to attract contributions over a broader geographical distribution. Further, they appointed scientists from many diverse countries and continents to the editorial advisory board who, in turn, were able to stimulate local and national colleagues, leading to a “snowball effect”. The most potent factor may have been the very globalization and anglicization of science itself, with a growing number of foreign authors anxious to see their work published in English-language journals.
Not much has changed in journal content and overall style since then, but a few words are required to outline the changes in editorship and proprietors that have occurred. In 1995, Dr Chris Walker died following a tragic accident and was replaced as associate editor by Dr Paul Wolf from the University of California at San Diego, restoring an American presence on the executive. The team remained unchanged until 2003, when Dr Hindmarsh resigned upon his retirement. A most incestuous relationship then took place against a somewhat tempestuous background that had to do with changes in the ownership of the journal. The Chemical Rubber Company never made a fortune out of its publishing division that it operated like a Formula 1 Motor-Racing Team, more for prestige than for profit. Just before the end of the century, it sold this part of its business to a private entrepreneur, although neither the event itself nor the date on which it occurred was made known, and operations continued at Boca Raton with essentially the same personnel. However, changes in middle management took place with disconcerting frequency. All communications between editors and publishers passed through the hands of an administrative assistant based in Florida. Administrative assistants came and went as though through a revolving door, their tenure being of even shorter duration than that of prime ministers in France and Italy in the immediate post-World War II era. This made for a tough life punctuated by sporadic disasters. Manuscripts went missing in transit, whether sent by mail or electronically. Important enquiries frequently went unanswered. Corrections to proofs were only partially implemented, if at all. One issue failed to name a single referee. For a whole year, no contributor received the statutory honorarium or even their personal copy of the journal. The editors were more fortunate and never missed their quarterly compensation cheques. The publishers at least had their priorities correct.
To deal with this impending descent into chaos, a tighter editorial structure was thought to be desirable. Dr Goldberg agreed to continue as editor-in-chief with Dr Lynn Allen as executive editor. Two associate editors were appointed, Dr Eleftherios P Diamandis and Dr Mario Plebani. The last named was a professor in laboratory medicine at the University of Padua, Italy, but the first three were all from the same department (laboratory medicine) at the University of Toronto, working within spitting distance of each other. The recipe is not one that fosters diversity, but it got the journal through a sticky period without loss of quality. Indeed, the Impact Factor soared. Several reviews were so large and at the same time so compelling and authoritative that they were published in two parts. Shortly after the change in editorship, a further change in ownership occurred when the full portfolio of Critical Review Journals was sold to Taylor and Francis, whose American office was initially in Philadelphia but moved to New York City after a year or two. This set up a fresh set of learning experiences with all the headaches and heartaches that education implies, but, as previously, these were gradually overcome at the cost of some frayed nerves and sleepless nights.
In 2006 the final change in ownership of the journal up to the present time took place. This was not so much an acquisition as the shuffling of a rather large pack. Taylor and Francis handed over ownership and management to Informa Healthcare, also based in New York City, but both belonged to a parent organization, Informa plc., and the publishing office was moved to London, England. Major changes in the modus operandi ensued that turned every conceivable operation into an electronic manipulation. The Human Factor was progressively diminished but it was hard to see any improvement in either quality or efficiency. The same old catalogue of errors and potential disasters reappeared as frequently as before. To spare his hardening arteries from further solidification, Dr Goldberg resigned in 2008, being generously accorded the status of editor emeritus, and was replaced by Dr John Burnett from the Department of Clinical Pathology and Biochemistry at the Royal Perth Hospital, Western Australia. The latter was fortunate to retain the services of Dr Allen as executive editor; her powers of navigation through all manner of turbulence since her initial appointment had been most impressive. Now, instead of lying bunched together in uncomfortable proximity to the Arctic Circle, the editorial offices formed an axis that straddled the globe. It would be hard to find two cities of academic significance that are further apart than Toronto, Canada, and Perth, Australia. If metaphors count for anything at all, this should help to make Critical Reviews in Clinical Laboratory Sciences a world player in the game of scientific publishing.
David Goldberg
University of Toronto, Canada