with an interest in cancer and in chemistry.

You might know that chemistry is the science of making molecules

or, to my taste,

new drugs for cancer.

And you might also know that, for science and medicine,

Boston is a bit of a candy store.

You can't roll a stop sign in Cambridge without hitting a graduate student.

The bar is called the Miracle of Science.

The billboards say "Lab Space Available."

And it's fair to say that in these 10 years,

we've witnessed absolutely the start of a scientific revolution --

that of genome medicine.

We know more about the patients that enter our clinic now

than ever before.

And we're able, finally, to answer the question

that's been so pressing for so many years:

Why do I have cancer?

This information is also pretty staggering.

You might know that, so far, in just the dawn of this revolution,

we know that there are perhaps 40,000 unique mutations

affecting more than 10,000 genes,

and that there are 500 of these genes that are bona-fide drivers,

causes of cancer.

Yet comparatively,

we have about a dozen targeted medications.

And this inadequacy of cancer medicine

really hit home when my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

We didn't fly him to Boston.

We didn't sequence his genome.

It's been known for decades what causes this malignancy.

It's three proteins: ras, myc, p53.

This is old information we've known since about the 80s,

yet there's no medicine I can prescribe

to a patient with this or any of the numerous solid tumors

caused by these three ...

Horsemen of the Apocalypse that is cancer.

There's no ras, no myc, no p53 drug.

And you might fairly ask: Why is that?

And the very unsatisfying yet scientific answer is:

it's too hard.

That for whatever reason,

these three proteins have entered a space, in the language of our field,

that's called the undruggable genome --

which is like calling a computer unsurfable

or the Moon unwalkable.

It's a horrible term of trade.

But what it means

is that we've failed to identify a greasy pocket in these proteins,

into which we, like molecular locksmiths,

can fashion an active, small, organic molecule or drug substance.

Now, as I was training in clinical medicine

and hematology and oncology and stem-cell transplantation,

what we had instead,

cascading through the regulatory network at the FDA,

were these substances:

arsenic,

thalidomide,

and this chemical derivative of nitrogen mustard gas.

And this is the 21st century.

And so, I guess you'd say,

dissatisfied with the performance and quality of these medicines,

I went back to school, in chemistry,

with the idea that perhaps by learning the trade of discovery chemistry

and approaching it in the context of this brave new world

of the open source,

the crowd source,

the collaborative network that we have access to within academia,

that we might more quickly bring powerful and targeted therapies

to our patients.

And so, please consider this a work in progress,

but I'd like to tell you today a story

about a very rare cancer called midline carcinoma,

about the undruggable protein target that causes this cancer,

called BRD4,

and about a molecule developed at my lab at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute,

called JQ1,

which we affectionately named for Jun Qi,

the chemist that made this molecule.

Now, BRD4 is an interesting protein.

You might ask: with all the things cancer's trying to do to kill our patient,

how does it remember it's cancer?

When it winds up its genome,

divides into two cells and unwinds again,

why does it not turn into an eye, into a liver,

as it has all the genes necessary to do this?

It remembers that it's cancer.

And the reason is that cancer, like every cell in the body,

places little molecular bookmarks,

little Post-it notes,

that remind the cell, "I'm cancer; I should keep growing."

And those Post-it notes involve this and other proteins of its class --

so-called bromodomains.

So we developed an idea, a rationale,

that perhaps if we made a molecule

that prevented the Post-it note from sticking

by entering into the little pocket

at the base of this spinning protein,

then maybe we could convince cancer cells,

certainly those addicted to this BRD4 protein,

that they're not cancer.

And so we started to work on this problem.

We developed libraries of compounds

and eventually arrived at this and similar substances

called JQ1.

Now, not being a drug company,

we could do certain things, we had certain flexibilities,

that I respect that a pharmaceutical industry doesn't have.

We just started mailing it to our friends.

I have a small lab.

We thought we'd just send it to people and see how the molecule behaves.

We sent it to Oxford, England,

where a group of talented crystallographers provided this picture,

which helped us understand exactly how this molecule is so potent

for this protein target.

It's what we call a perfect fit of shape complementarity,

or hand in glove.

Now, this is a very rare cancer,

this BRD4-addicted cancer.

And so we worked with samples of material

that were collected by young pathologists at Brigham and Women's Hospital.

And as we treated these cells with this molecule,

we observed something really striking.

The cancer cells --

small, round and rapidly dividing,

grew these arms and extensions.

They were changing shape.

In effect,

the cancer cell was forgetting it was cancer

and becoming a normal cell.

This got us very excited.

The next step would be to put this molecule into mice.

The only problem was there's no mouse model of this rare cancer.

And so at the time we were doing this research,

I was caring for a 29-year-old firefighter from Connecticut

who was very much at the end of life

with this incurable cancer.

This BRD4-addicted cancer was growing throughout his left lung.

And he had a chest tube in that was draining little bits of debris.

And every nursing shift, we would throw this material out.

And so we approached this patient

and asked if he would collaborate with us.

Could we take this precious and rare cancerous material

from this chest tube

and drive it across town and put it into mice

and try to do a clinical trial at a stage that with a prototype drug,

well, that would be, of course, impossible

and, rightly, illegal to do in humans.

And he obliged us.

At the Lurie Family Center for Animal Imaging,

our colleague, Andrew Kung, grew this cancer successfully in mice

without ever touching plastic.

And you can see this PET scan of a mouse -- what we call a pet PET.

The cancer is growing

as this red, huge mass in the hind limb of this animal.

And as we treat it with our compound,

this addiction to sugar,

this rapid growth, faded.

And on the animal on the right,

you see that the cancer was responding.

We've completed, now, clinical trials

in four mouse models of this disease.

And every time, we see the same thing.

The mice with this cancer that get the drug live,

and the ones that don't rapidly perish.

So we started to wonder,

what would a drug company do at this point?

Well, they probably would keep this a secret

until they turn the prototype drug

into an active pharmaceutical substance.

So we did just the opposite.

We published a paper that described this finding

at the earliest prototype stage.

We gave the world the chemical identity of this molecule,

typically a secret in our discipline.