The Great Fossil Enigma Read Online Free Page A

published in 1933, that described Cretaceous “micro conodonts” from the Baltic. 15 Durden knew these were not truly conodonts, but for Riedl they were a missing link and he began working with Sam Ellison to explore the relationship further.
    Scott felt compelled to respond. He did so as one who had “studied conodont assemblages since 1934” and as the “designer” of the name “scolecodont.” His authority established, he closed the debate: “I can assure you that there is no relationship between Gnathostomulida and conodonts, whether direct or indirect. They are not related in any manner.” He now turned Melton's puzzling animal into definitive evidence. It became an exclusive rod of office: “The reason I am so sure of this is that I have in my possession five whole conodont animals.”
    Scott was firm but courteous. He copied his letter to Durden and Rogers. Durden, who had done some work on the matter, confirmed that these were different groups of animal and said that he and Rogers had simply wanted to stimulate debate. However, he thought the microconodonts might belong to Riedl's animals. Riedl responded to Scott's “most challenging letter,” equally courteously, enclosing a picture of the 1933 micro conodonts. Scott told him they were most likely the remains of worms. That was not, however, the end of the matter, as some months later, Serge Ochietti, of the Université du Québec, sent Scott a French-language article he had written with André Cailleux. They had also been inspired by Riedl's illustrations and proposed a link to conodonts. That the elements in question were composed of chitin (the material that makes up the skeleton of insects), were 25–250 times smaller than conodonts, grew differently, and came from animals that live in the interstices between sand grains in sediments did not seem to matter. They were convinced that nature could support such diversity without destroying the link. Scott wrote to Ochietti and in a sentence dismissed their claim. He had the animal and that was the end of it.

    Meanwhile, Melton and his assistants were braving the Montana winter in the quarry, where a bulldozer had been of little help in making the conodont animals appear. He had just two animals and was now investigating the older sections of the quarry where the weathered shale split more easily. This move into a disused area might also have been a retreat from quarry politics, for the quarry owner, Charles Allen, had asked him for one thousand dollars to cover the disruption to his quarrying operations. Melton was told that someone from the University of Montana had offered him such a sum. Melton told Scott and this turned February 9, 1970, on its head. Was the project to be “messed up” here, on site? They had been blind to the possibility and, thinking the University of Montana story untrue, imagined that a private collector might be muscling in. Scott doubted Allen and felt there was dishonesty at play. Anyway, one thousand dollars was a large sum and could not be raised so easily. Scott also worried about the ethics of it all and considered withdrawing. It was a classic clash of cultures, of differing risks and rewards, of differing ways of doing things, and Melton and Scott simply could not see the world from Allen's perspective. Scott felt he was being asked to buy the specimens at an exorbitant rate. Besides, Scott did not yet have the NSF grant so little could be done but delay the payment, if a payment had to be made. Nevertheless, it raised the question of property and ownership, which caused Scott to draw up an agreement: “All fish fossils obtained from the quarry shall be given to and shall remain the property of William Melton the University of Montana. All conodonts shall be given to and shall remain the property of Harold W. Scott, Michigan State University.” Melton deleted his own name. As a curator he could not