Jay Finegan

Uncle Sam, Research Director

 

To win a three-year contract from SERI, Spire had to chip in $900,000 to obtain what amounts to a $2.1-million SERI grant. And should the collaboration yield a cheaper silicon technology, Spire -- not SERI -- will hold the patent and with it the exclusive right to profit from government-sponsored and -subsidized research.

Not surprisingly, Roger Little, Spire's president, likes these cost-sharing deals with government laboratories. "What happens is you get people in the business interested in doing the research themselves, as opposed to the Washington Beltway bandits," he says, referring to the scores of research firms located on the highway that rings the nation's capital. "The government-contract dollar goes to people who are really serious about the work. So that's a big step toward commercialization and technology transfer."

But others ask why the free market can't provide for its own R&D, and why taxpayers should foot the bill to develop a technology from which they will never benefit directly. Among them is Arun Madan, one of the pioneers in the field of amorphous silicon who spent 18 months at SERI before leaving to establish his own company, Glasstech Solar Inc., just outside of Denver.

Madan agrees that "when a technology is in its infancy, government needs to encourage industry to get into it, because it's a very high-risk situation. But at a certain point," he continues, "the technology goes beyond high risk, and then it's time to ask whether companies are just using government money for their own ends." Madan says that with amorphous silicon products already on the market, and with some 35 commercial applications envisioned, the technology has clearly shot past the high-risk stage.

SERI officials, reflecting the new enthusiasm for technology transfer, dismiss concerns like Madan's. "Some people think that nobody should make a buck off the public's money," says director Hubbard. "The problem with that is that if nobody can make a buck from the public's money, nobody is going to do anything with the public technology."

Larry Flowers, manager of SERI's solar buildings program, points to the erratic interest of big oil companies, which jumped into the solar industry when the price of oil was high, then bailed out at breakneck speed when the near-term prospects turned sour. Without government subsidy, he says, "You can't depend on industry to sustain an effort."

Providing a reliable stream of research money, however, is only one method by which government labs can speed up the pace of technology transfer to commercial applications. Providing an incubator for would-be entrepreneurs, and sophisticated equipment for private research, are others.

Take the case of Industrial Solar Technology, founded by former SERI engineers Randy Gee and E. Kenneth May. Located near Denver, the fledgling $390,000 company manufactures parabolic-trough collectors -- curved devices that reflect sunlight to heat circulated fluid. In one application, these collectors produce warm water and hot showers for a community swimming pool. In another, the device produces hot water and electricity for a county jail.

"SERI gave us a lot of experience in this area. It got the pot boiling," says Gee. Moreover, when Gee and May were ready to go out on their own, personal contacts formed at the lab helped them find financial partners. "The network system really makes a difference," Gee claims.

Outsiders, however, are also welcome. SERI, for example, has provided a windtest site, hardware, and consulting technicians, at no charge, to Four Winds Energy Systems, a wind-turbine manufacturer in nearby Englewood, Colo. "Without the help," admits vice-president John Kunz, "I doubt that we would still be in operation."

Of all the entrepreneurs who have taken advantage of the new commercial orientation of the national labs, perhaps none has been as resourceful as Gilbert Brassell. A chemist and materials specialist, Brassell worked at the Sandia and Oak Ridge laboratories before landing at Rocky Flats, a Department of Energy nuclear-weapons installation near Denver. While at Rocky Flats, Brassell ran across a problem with the containers in which nuclear waste was stored: as hydrogen gas built up inside, there was a risk that they could explode. To solve the problem, Brassell developed a carbon-composite filter that vented the gas while trapping 99.97% of the radioactive particles that otherwise would have escaped with it. Rocky Flats managers were some what blase about this discovery until they found out that Brassell had made a move to patent his idea. Quickly, they moved to assert the lab's right to the filter, but then agreed to transfer it to Brassell for the cost of patent application, about $4,000.

In keeping with its federal lab origins, Brassell's Nuclear Filter Technology Inc. set up shop in a small-business incubator that SERI helped to found right next door, in Golden. SERI has also made its lab space and equipment available to Brassell, services that might cost him tens of thousands of dollars -- money that he could not otherwise afford. And now, the government's help is beginning to pay off. In 1986, its second year, Nuclear Filter logged sales of $300,000, up from only $60,000 a year earlier. Among his clients: E. I. du Pont de Nemours, EG&G, Her Majesty's Ministry of Defence, and the U.S. Navy. And, oh yes, the national laboratory at Rocky Flats.

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