CORNING — It is designed to neutralize poison: the hundreds of tons of mercury spewed into the air each year by the world’s coal-fired power plants.
By day, Kishor Gadkaree tests the mettle of his catalyst-coated honeycomb filter by feeding samples into a miniature gas chamber that simulates the insides of a coal-burning smokestack.
By night, the veteran materials scientist dreams of serving up the next big hit for Corning Inc., which survived a brush with extinction right after celebrating its 150th anniversary in 2001.
At its newly expanded research haven, the glass-and-ceramics innovator is betting tens of millions of dollars that tougher environmental regulations, plus a few more years of progressively rigorous tests, will turn the mercury trap into a commercial success generating at least $500 million in annual sales.
“We are going over those hurdles one by one,” Gadkaree said as he showed off his shelf-top mini-flue in a laboratory at Sullivan Park, a hilltop campus outside this eponymous town of 10,300 in rural southwestern New York. “We can show it works. Now we’re trying to find out how much customers will pay for it.”
With a dazzling track record for entwining specialty materials in potent technologies - from figuring how to make light bulb blanks for Thomas Edison in 1880 to devising the hair-thin optical fibers that spurred the Internet revolution — Corning stands out more than ever in industrial-research circles.
“We have set ourselves up to be patient,” said Mark Newhouse, who oversees development of new technologies. “We talk about how many businesses we will create in a decade, not in a couple of years.”
But while admired for a decade-after-decade array of breakthroughs ranging from ovenproof Pyrex dishes and cathode-ray tubes to auto-pollution filters and space-telescope mirrors, Corning has had to endure multiple reincarnations since Eugene Sullivan set up its first research hub in 1908.
Never did a cyclical slide turn so ugly as in 2001-02 when the dot.com bust punctured the booming telecommunications equipment market.
Lopsided investments in fiber optics almost capsized Corning: Its stock tumbled from $113 in September 2000 to a mere $1.10 in October 2002 as annual revenues shrank from $7.1 billion to $3.2 billion.
It quickly retooled itself as the world’s biggest maker of liquid-crystal-display glass for flat-screen televisions and computers. The ultra-thin monitors delivered 90 percent of its $2.2 billion profit in 2007.
Nonetheless, the company with a do-it-from-the-ground-up style rarely seen anymore in American industry absorbed a hard lesson about the need to spread its risks over a variety of high-growth businesses.
During its perilous downturn, former Chief Executive James Houghton came out of retirement to right his great-great-grandfather’s ship. Known to some as “Dark Angel,” Houghton mothballed fiber plants, offloaded the once-stellar photonics business and slashed the work force from 43,000 to 22,500.
The old patriarch and his young, chosen successor, Wendell Weeks, also turned back the clock. They championed wider exploration of arenas in which Corning boasts unsurpassed expertise, a more freewheeling philosophy once associated with the likes of IBM, Bell Laboratories and other high-tech powerhouses.
One key difference: While ensuring an unusually high 10 percent of revenue is allocated to research, management laid down a more rigorous, companywide system for nurturing the best ideas along step by step and spreading its bets more evenly.
Out of hundreds of projects each year, it chooses just a handful seen as likely to hit the jackpot. Among the latest high-wager hopefuls: green lasers to equip cell phones with projectors, micro-reactors to enhance chemical processing and silicon bonded to glass to extend battery life for handheld electronics.
“Anything related to glass and glass derivatives, they have probably the best, most concentrated group of experts on the planet,” said analyst C.J. Muse of Barclays Capital. “All they do every single day is focus on creating the next new thing, and the power of that is enormous. They want to have their toe in multiple ponds and, as markets evolve, hit singles with many and hope for a home run every 10 or 20 years.”
The tough economy is bringing new pressures. Corning recently trimmed 2009 capital spending by up to $200 million because of an alarming slowdown in LCD-TV sales — a nagging reminder that relying on one colossal cash cow product leaves it vulnerable to cyclical swings and stock gyrations.
So far, research is largely unscathed. With lab space enlarged by a $300 million investment last year, Sullivan Park is packed again with 1,800 scientists, engineers and technicians, up from 1,100 in 2002.
Although half its current payroll of 27,000 is overseas, Corning retains tight control of research and manufacturing at its dozens of factories and invests quickly and heavily to keep rivals trailing behind. In the pollution-filter realm, that means anticipating regulations long before they’re enacted.
Gadkaree, 55, who has netted 67 patents in 25 years at Corning, is one of 15 active research fellows — a designation begun in 1978 — who are given more leeway to explore projects of special interest.
In the 1990s, he developed a water-purification filter that had customers lining up but was shelved because the market wasn’t deemed big enough. Besides, telecom was soaking up the bulk of research dollars.
Because it was also capable of capturing metals, the filter came in for another look in 2004 when signs resurfaced that a long-anticipated federal law could impose a 90 percent limit on mercury emissions by around 2013.
Coal-burning sends as much as 300 tons of mercury into the atmosphere each year, with the nation’s 1,100 electricity-generating utilities accounting for nearly 50 tons. As many as 630,000 children born each year in the United States — where emissions limits are likely to be tightest first — are at risk of learning disabilities and physical ailments related to the neurotoxin.
Corning expects its filter will be cheaper and more effective than a current technique of injecting activated carbon chemicals into flue gas. Gadkaree knows too well that without customers, great innovations go nowhere. Nonetheless, he’s always mindful of leaving a bigger mark, favoring gizmos that ultimately benefit everyone.
By night, the veteran materials scientist dreams of serving up the next big hit for Corning Inc., which survived a brush with extinction right after celebrating its 150th anniversary in 2001.
At its newly expanded research haven, the glass-and-ceramics innovator is betting tens of millions of dollars that tougher environmental regulations, plus a few more years of progressively rigorous tests, will turn the mercury trap into a commercial success generating at least $500 million in annual sales.
“We are going over those hurdles one by one,” Gadkaree said as he showed off his shelf-top mini-flue in a laboratory at Sullivan Park, a hilltop campus outside this eponymous town of 10,300 in rural southwestern New York. “We can show it works. Now we’re trying to find out how much customers will pay for it.”
With a dazzling track record for entwining specialty materials in potent technologies - from figuring how to make light bulb blanks for Thomas Edison in 1880 to devising the hair-thin optical fibers that spurred the Internet revolution — Corning stands out more than ever in industrial-research circles.
“We have set ourselves up to be patient,” said Mark Newhouse, who oversees development of new technologies. “We talk about how many businesses we will create in a decade, not in a couple of years.”
But while admired for a decade-after-decade array of breakthroughs ranging from ovenproof Pyrex dishes and cathode-ray tubes to auto-pollution filters and space-telescope mirrors, Corning has had to endure multiple reincarnations since Eugene Sullivan set up its first research hub in 1908.
Never did a cyclical slide turn so ugly as in 2001-02 when the dot.com bust punctured the booming telecommunications equipment market.
Lopsided investments in fiber optics almost capsized Corning: Its stock tumbled from $113 in September 2000 to a mere $1.10 in October 2002 as annual revenues shrank from $7.1 billion to $3.2 billion.
It quickly retooled itself as the world’s biggest maker of liquid-crystal-display glass for flat-screen televisions and computers. The ultra-thin monitors delivered 90 percent of its $2.2 billion profit in 2007.
Nonetheless, the company with a do-it-from-the-ground-up style rarely seen anymore in American industry absorbed a hard lesson about the need to spread its risks over a variety of high-growth businesses.
During its perilous downturn, former Chief Executive James Houghton came out of retirement to right his great-great-grandfather’s ship. Known to some as “Dark Angel,” Houghton mothballed fiber plants, offloaded the once-stellar photonics business and slashed the work force from 43,000 to 22,500.
The old patriarch and his young, chosen successor, Wendell Weeks, also turned back the clock. They championed wider exploration of arenas in which Corning boasts unsurpassed expertise, a more freewheeling philosophy once associated with the likes of IBM, Bell Laboratories and other high-tech powerhouses.
One key difference: While ensuring an unusually high 10 percent of revenue is allocated to research, management laid down a more rigorous, companywide system for nurturing the best ideas along step by step and spreading its bets more evenly.
Out of hundreds of projects each year, it chooses just a handful seen as likely to hit the jackpot. Among the latest high-wager hopefuls: green lasers to equip cell phones with projectors, micro-reactors to enhance chemical processing and silicon bonded to glass to extend battery life for handheld electronics.
“Anything related to glass and glass derivatives, they have probably the best, most concentrated group of experts on the planet,” said analyst C.J. Muse of Barclays Capital. “All they do every single day is focus on creating the next new thing, and the power of that is enormous. They want to have their toe in multiple ponds and, as markets evolve, hit singles with many and hope for a home run every 10 or 20 years.”
The tough economy is bringing new pressures. Corning recently trimmed 2009 capital spending by up to $200 million because of an alarming slowdown in LCD-TV sales — a nagging reminder that relying on one colossal cash cow product leaves it vulnerable to cyclical swings and stock gyrations.
So far, research is largely unscathed. With lab space enlarged by a $300 million investment last year, Sullivan Park is packed again with 1,800 scientists, engineers and technicians, up from 1,100 in 2002.
Although half its current payroll of 27,000 is overseas, Corning retains tight control of research and manufacturing at its dozens of factories and invests quickly and heavily to keep rivals trailing behind. In the pollution-filter realm, that means anticipating regulations long before they’re enacted.
Gadkaree, 55, who has netted 67 patents in 25 years at Corning, is one of 15 active research fellows — a designation begun in 1978 — who are given more leeway to explore projects of special interest.
In the 1990s, he developed a water-purification filter that had customers lining up but was shelved because the market wasn’t deemed big enough. Besides, telecom was soaking up the bulk of research dollars.
Because it was also capable of capturing metals, the filter came in for another look in 2004 when signs resurfaced that a long-anticipated federal law could impose a 90 percent limit on mercury emissions by around 2013.
Coal-burning sends as much as 300 tons of mercury into the atmosphere each year, with the nation’s 1,100 electricity-generating utilities accounting for nearly 50 tons. As many as 630,000 children born each year in the United States — where emissions limits are likely to be tightest first — are at risk of learning disabilities and physical ailments related to the neurotoxin.
Corning expects its filter will be cheaper and more effective than a current technique of injecting activated carbon chemicals into flue gas. Gadkaree knows too well that without customers, great innovations go nowhere. Nonetheless, he’s always mindful of leaving a bigger mark, favoring gizmos that ultimately benefit everyone.
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