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By Andrea Gibson, Nick Kowalczyk and Kelli Whitlock When Royal and Gene Mapes exchanged wedding vows on Thanksgiving Day in 1965, they embarked on more than a marriage. They soon became partners in the study of ancient plant and animal life, research resulting in the collection of more than half a million fossils at some 30 sites across the United States and in six other countries. Like many couples at Ohio University, the Mapeses discovered early in their relationship a mutual interest in each other -- and in each other's research. Although the University doesn't track the number of married faculty who collaborate on research, a poll of academic leaders on campus suggests there are dozens who do so. A pair of chemistry researchers are collaborating on the design of new drugs that may be more effective against infection than conventional antibiotics. In the College of Communication, one couple is working to bring a regional humanities center to Ohio University, while another is studying the role of gender in information technology careers. Married researchers also are teaming up to study childbirth pain, AIDS and HIV in rural America and the impact of rural busing on school performance. Here we share the stories of three University research duos whose tales offer a glimpse at relationships and research careers that have grown side by side. Gene and Royal Mapes     Royal and Gene Mapes share a laugh in Gene Mapes' campus lab. Royal, a professor of geological sciences, and Gene, an associate professor of environmental and plant biology, have been married for 36 years. Photo by Rick Fatica Gene Mapes was 19 when she met her future husband. The two were students at the University of Arkansas, where Gene was pursuing a bachelor's degree in behavioral science and Royal a bachelor's in geology. The pair were enrolled in an introductory German language class and, on the first day of class, the seat next to Royal was the only one open to a late-arriving Gene. She recalls that he was smoking a pipe, and "when the smoke cleared, he looked pretty good." That was in the spring of 1965. By fall, they were married. For Gene, who'd planned on a career in behavioral science, the union brought about as much change in her professional life as it did in her personal one. Royal had long been a fossil enthusiast; he always knew he wanted to be a geologist. The couple began hunting fossils together, just as a hobby at first. But after several years, their pastime grew into something more serious. So when Royal entered the doctoral program in geology at the University of Iowa in 1974 to study invertebrate paleontology (the examination of ancient invertebrates), Gene enrolled in a combined master's/doctoral program to study paleobotany (the investigation of ancient plants). They came to Ohio University in 1978, Royal as an assistant professor of geology and Gene as an adjunct faculty member in botany. (At that time, the University didn't allow married couples to hold posts in the same department.) Royal and Gene pursued their specific interests, each working to become established as a scientist in his or her own right. And while this allowed them the individuality they needed, it also let them share their passion for fossils. And it gave each a new perspective in the field. Send a paleontologist to a dig site and he may dismiss information about ancient plant systems because he's only interested in finding animal fossils. Send a paleobotanist into the field and she may sidestep an animal fossil on her way to an interesting plant specimen. But send them in together, and the result is a better understanding of an entire landscape that existed hundreds of millions of years ago. "When we go into the field, we have two quite different points of view," says Gene, who directs the University's Environmental Studies Program. "This allows us to create a holistic view of ancient ecosystems. We ask questions of field sites that others may not think to ask." Those questions -- and the answers they've generated -- have led to nearly 40 joint journal articles describing extinct ecosystems as well as grants from the National Science Foundation, Ohio University Research Committee, the University's Baker Fund and the American Chemical Society. Their research partnership also has earned them a reputation among their peers as masters of the excavation. When Royal and Gene head into the field, no rock is left unturned. Their current studies include an ongoing examination of specimens collected from a site in Hamilton, Kan., which they've mined for fossils for 30 years. The couple traveled to Morocco in March to study ancient animal and plant life, and they're hoping to return there in the spring as they prepare to write a book about their findings. They also are spending time poring over an ancient beach deposit in Texas, a find rarely preserved by nature. "We've spent many anniversaries in the field together," says Royal. However, he points out that the secret to the couple's 36-year marriage and successful research collaboration is mutual respect and an appreciation that, sometimes, each of them needs a little space and time alone. "It helps that we're in slightly different fields," Royal says. "We have confidence in each other, and in ourselves." Joan and Stephen Safran     Joan and Stephen Safran enjoy a walk near their home east of Athens. Joan, an assistant professor of teacher education, and Stephen, a professor of teacher education, have been married since 1974. Photo by Amy Thompson For 15 years, Stephen and Joan Safran never understood why their son couldn't make friends. He was smart -- as a sixth-grader, he took a college course in World War I history -- and he had a bright, welcoming smile. But he was eccentric. He talked too loudly and too closely to others. He got rattled if a routine was changed. He paced in class and often gave impromptu lectures about WW I fighter planes and "Star Wars." Strangely, though, he didn't know his behavior was inappropriate. After years of being teased and ostracized, he was diagnosed as a gifted child with Attention Deficit Disorder and depression. The Safrans, who teach in Ohio University's College of Education, blamed themselves. They had collaborated on several special education research projects since their 1974 marriage and wondered why they -- as professionals -- couldn't help their son. When a doctor mentioned Asperger Syndrome, the Safrans found their answer along with a new focus for their research. Unfamiliar with the disorder and desperate to help their son, then 15, Joan and Stephen set out to learn more. They discovered that Asperger Syndrome is a little-known developmental disorder -- often misdiagnosed as ADD -- that makes it difficult to process social cues. "We read (a definition) and started sobbing," Joan says. "We were blown away that it was so accurate. The description of our son was so clear. How did nobody pick this up before? How did we not pick this up before?" But few American scholars knew about Asperger, even though researchers now estimate that it affects four to seven of every 1,000 individuals (mostly males) and might be genetic. The disorder makes social learning a deliberate process. For example, if a man is crying, people with Asperger may not know why he's sad. They consciously think: "The man has a drawn face; the man is crying; he looks upset. I should say something. What should I say?" The answers are not automatic. The Safrans' son, like many Asperger patients, takes medication to focus his concentration and to curb the anxiety of not fitting in. He's now a 19-year-old college student still managing his disorder. Meanwhile, his parents -- who hope to raise awareness of the condition and help teachers -- are researching the educational environments children encounter. The Safrans have co-written almost 30 articles on such topics as school proficiency testing and the portrayal of people with disabilities in film. But their Asperger-related projects are different, more personal. Their standard rule of "no talk about work at home" is broken more frequently. One always wants to tell the other -- or their son -- about new information, Joan says. Taking an academic rather than a medical view of the disorder, they're studying how these children can be helped socially. They've learned that Asperger is one of the mildest forms of autism, and that many of those with Asperger desperately crave social interaction. The disorder also has no obvious physical or cognitive impairments, so those who have it aren't seen as disabled even though they are socially handicapped, Joan says. The disorder, while discovered in 1944 in Vienna, Austria, largely went unstudied until after 1981, when scholarly articles began to appear in European journals. In January 2001, Stephen published the first major article about Asperger to appear in a special education journal. Joan has written two articles, one co-authored with Stephen, which have been accepted for publication within the next six months in Teaching Exceptional Children and the Journal of Educational and Psychological Consultation. The couple is interviewing teachers who've had Asperger children in their classrooms in the hope of developing recommendations for educators who teach students with the disorder. In a separate project, Joan is researching British universities that have support programs for Asperger students and would like to create a model for U.S. institutions. Possible supports include "social tutors" or permission to take tests on a computer because Asperger often inhibits motor skills, making handwriting illegible. The Safrans also are planning to examine whether peers regard Asperger students more favorably once told about their classmates' condition. "This is something we can do that can be productive," Joan says. "We suffered so greatly ... and if we can get some of this information out, (it will) help somebody." Manjulika and Rajindar Koshal When Professor of Economics Rajindar Koshal married Manjulika in 1966, the prospect of the two researchers working together was slim. In those days, the College of Business -- where the Department of Economics then was housed -- wasn't exactly putting out the welcome mat for wedded couples. It wasn't until 1975 that Manjulika secured a full-time job. Even then, she was only the second woman the college had hired. "It was odd," says Manjulika, now a professor of management systems. "You're part of the system, but you see that you're not part of the boys' club. You're kind of isolated." While the climate has changed, it's no wonder that the Koshals -- a scholarly duo with 80 articles published in the past 30 years on hot-button economic issues -- have taken an interest in studying whether businesswomen in Asian countries are hitting the proverbial glass ceiling. The ambitious project, which required traveling around the globe and interviewing hundreds of corporate employees in Hong Kong, Malaysia and the Koshals' native India, has found that dilemmas like Manjulika's still exist. Men in Asian countries support women climbing the career ladder, but they don't want to work for a female boss, the Koshals' study found. However, men do acknowledge that women have a certain communication savvy in business situations. "The solution is that both of them should try to respect each other's role," Manjulika says.     Rajindar and Manjulika Koshal have been married since 1966. He is a professor of economics, and she is a professor of management systems. Photo by Amy Thompson That's a concept the Koshals have employed themselves during the past three decades, working together to analyze issues ranging from labor strikes to energy consumption to education spending. "Any social issue that comes up -- we look at it," says Rajindar, whose department today falls within the College of Arts and Sciences. The Koshals began to make their mark as a research team in 1971, when they published their first joint study on income differences between male and female employees. In the early 1970s, they tackled a number of labor issues, from worker strikes to the cause of industrial accidents. When the energy crisis hit and the environment became a national concern, the two began to examine air and water pollution. One key study of 73 U.S. cities, published in 1980 in the journal Environmental International, found a correlation between air pollution and lower fertility rates. Throughout the 1970s and '80s, the Koshals watched their economic forecasts become reality. One study argued that Americans wouldn't put up with the high price of gasoline brought on by the oil crisis; instead, they'd start to change their driving habits. And today, the "Sunday drive" is a thing of the past, Rajindar points out. In the early 1980s, the couple also predicted that the boom in Japanese productivity wouldn't last -- a forecast that played out when a younger generation of American employees began to outpace graying Japanese workers, they say. In the 1990s, when the quality and funding of K-12 schools and higher education became a topic of concern in Ohio and elsewhere, the Koshals turned their focus to the classroom. Their work included studies on college tuition costs, the high school dropout rate, the impact of socioeconomic factors on a student's ability to score well on proficiency tests and the relationship between television viewing and poor academic performance of middle school students. (In the latter study, published in 1996, the Koshals found that if an eighth-grader watches more than two hours of television per day, his grades will start to slide.) The Koshals will continue to make sense of social and economic issues facing society in this decade as well. Their study on businesswomen in Asia, which they're conducting with Professor of Marketing Ashok Gupta, is now examining Japan. The Koshals also plan to analyze the cost of educating a student in grades K-12 and in college, first looking at Ohio and then extending the study to other states. And the September attacks on the United States have made Manjulika curious about analyzing the economics of terrorism. It's clear that this mix of family and career works well for the Koshals, who often took their children to conferences when they presented their research findings to colleagues. "It really solidifies the marriage," Manjulika says about working with her spouse. "It's been enjoyable. You can say things to your spouse that you can't say to another collaborator." Andrea Gibson, BSJ '94; Nick Kowalczyk, BSJ '02; and Kelli Whitlock, MSJ '01, are writers in the University's Office of Research Communications.