McFadden

In spring 1920, Edgar McFadden '18 was toiling away in the wheat fields of South Dakota.

He was State College's official plant breeder and was conducting experiments at the South Dakota Agricultural Experiment Station's Highmore location aimed at developing a rust-resistant wheat variety.   

This had been a boyhood dream of McFadden's ever since the harvest of 1904, the year he was responsible for running the family farm. That year, his father was bedridden after being gored by a bull, and at the age of 13, McFadden planted the crops and watched as the wheat fields turned ripe with a golden hue. Then, just days before harvest, he found red spores on the stalks of his wheat plants and shriveled-up kernels. The stem rust epidemic had arrived in South Dakota, and from that moment on, McFadden was determined to find a solution.   

The idea was far-fetched to everyone but McFadden. Emmer had 28 chromosomes, and bread wheat had 42. The two plants couldn't possibly be crossed successfully, scientists thought. But assistant agronomy professor Manley Champlin encouraged the young State College student, and McFadden began experimenting with crosses of the two plants in the backyard of his rented house.  

What happened next is nothing short of a miracle. Over the July Fourth weekend in 1916, the two rows of plants — emmer and Marquis, the preeminent wheat variety at the time — had a brief overlapping period in which they were both in full bloom. McFadden spent the holiday carefully crossbreeding the two plants, castrating the emmer flowers and sprinkling the bread wheat pollen into tissue paper.   

The following spring, he planted his hybrids in the tiny backyard plot. He waited and waited until, finally, a single seed sprouted and produced 100 shriveled kernels. He didn't know it at the time, but those unpromising-looking kernels would pave the way for the greatest agricultural innovation in modern history.   

But in 1920, McFadden received some challenging news. The U.S. Department of Agriculture would be withdrawing its support of the Highmore station's work after a big cut in appropriations from Congress.   

McFadden continued on anyway. He returned to his family farm in Day County, bringing the precious plant breeding material with him. He mortgaged the farm to pay for his work, essentially going "all in" on his goal of developing a rust-resistant variety.   

Five years later, McFadden's bet paid off. After years of trials and hardships, those early crosses of emmer and Marquis had developed into a good — but not great — wheat variety. He named his variety "Hope" and immediately sent seeds to breeders around the U.S.   

This innovation was massive news and made headlines in newspapers around the world. Even better, Hope had 42 chromosomes, which meant it could easily breed with high-yielding wheat varieties.   

The true impact of Hope would not be felt until a decade or so later. As World War II began heating up in Europe, derivatives of Hope were being planted all across the U.S. Hope's ability to resist both stem and leaf rusts allowed yields to exponentially increase. It's estimated that almost all of California's wheat fields were planted with varieties containing Hope's genetics. Many historians credit Hope with helping fuel the Allies to victory in World War II.    

McFadden, a diminutive and humble man, was never one for the spotlight. He received many awards in the years following Hope and tried to decline nearly every single one of them. For the awards he did accept, he used his acceptance speeches to recognize the work of the botanists and plant breeders who came before him.   

In 1956, McFadden died in his sleep at his home in College Station, Texas.   

But on SDSU's campus, McFadden's legacy lives on. This fall, the university plans to install a McFadden sculpture to inspire students, staff and faculty for generations to come. 

Written by Addison DeHaven, University Marketing & Communications