Constance Tipper (née Elam) was born on this day in 1894. Although some years ago I gave a talk at TWI, just outside Cambridge, to the Tipper Group – a group which endeavours to promote diversity and inclusion to wider audiences – and was introduced then to her name, I am only just learning what a remarkable woman she was. One who undoubtedly has suffered from the Matilda effect, with her name and achievements effaced by other, more famous male engineers. I am indebted to Michael Thouless, a former Fellow of Churchill College and the son of another former Fellow and Nobel Prize winner, the late David Thouless, for bringing her achievements to my attention over dinner a short while ago.
Tipper was a metallurgist who studied Natural Sciences in Cambridge at Newnham College during the early years of the twentieth century. Thereafter she worked briefly at the National Physical Laboratory and then at the Royal School of Mines (part of Imperial College London) for more than a decade, but during which she also worked at times in Cambridge’s Cavendish Laboratory, my old department. She worked closely with various men whose names are well known, including GI Taylor, with whom she won the Royal Society’s Bakerian Medal in 1923. The lecture – which I assume was actually given by Taylor – was published that year.
I will return to the rather sad anecdote about the evening of the lecture in a minute, but first I should admit to a mea culpa. I won the Bakerian Award in 2006 and have been saying ever since I was only the second woman to win the award after Dorothy Hodgkin in 1972. This is clearly entirely wrong, given that Elam/ Tipper won it in 1923 as part of that pairing with Taylor; I will admit I had never thought to check the listings that far back. Had I done so I would realise that even if Tipper was the first, after her there was a second woman who won the award as part of a pair: William Hardy & Ida Bircumshaw won it for a paper entitled Boundary Lubrication – Plane Surfaces and the Limitations of Amontons Law in 1925 (pairings seemed quite common during these years). Aside from the fact that Bircumshaw was also known as Ida Doubleday (presumably her maiden name), and she published a few papers on lubrication in the early 1920s, I can find out nothing about this second woman. But there it stands, there were two women winners of the Bakerian Medal before Dorothy Hodgkin, so I was in fact the fourth female winner, albeit the first two were not sole winners and did not deliver a lecture themselves.
After my own lecture, back in 2006, the Royal Society kindly laid on a dinner. That was true for Constance Elam except…she was invited when no one realised that CF Elam was not a man. Unfortunately, the Royal Society dining club of the day was not open to women joining the dinners. She appears to have been very gracious about this, apparently writing
‘I am sorry to have given you so much trouble. But it is my misfortune rather than my fault that I do not happen to be a man. I felt very much honoured on receiving your invitation, although I realised that it had been sent under a misunderstanding.’
I hope no one would be so conveniently understanding today, but I can confirm that women certainly are able to dine. All Elam/Tipper got back then in lieu of the dinner was a ‘nice box of chocolates’ apparently.
After Constance Elam married and became Constance Tipper, she worked in Cambridge but, as for so many spouses then and now, for many years she was more of a hanger-on in the University than a formal employee, even during the time she held a Leverhulme Fellowship. Even Newnham College only seems to have given her a short spell as a Fellow. But she worked away (the Engineering department do seem to have provided space and facilities) looking at the interplay between metal structure and failure. Come the 2nd World War, a number of lecturers departed to serve and she took on some of their teaching duties.
The war provided her with a fascinating case study arising from the disastrous failure of so-called Liberty Ships. These were ships built hurriedly during the war, with a change in design for the hull from riveting metal plates to welding them. Several of these ships failed catastrophically, some when not even in rough seas, as this photograph of a docked SS Schenectady shows.
(This photo comes from one of my early favourite books on materials science, The New Science of Strong Materials by JE Gordon, which I read when still at school. This image stuck in my mind all these years.). She was invited to be a technical metallurgical expert for the British Admiralty Ship Welding Committee. An easy target to blame for the ships’ failures was to assume the welders were at fault. These were frequently women, so-called Wendy-the- welders in contrast to Rosie-the-Riveters, given the men were mainly serving in the forces. So, blame the women for doing a bad job! But, as Tipper – as she was by then – demonstrated, the fault lay not in the women but in the steel which, in the cold waters where the failures were occurring, had undergone a ductile-brittle transition. In welded ships, with their much larger continuous sheets of metal, small cracks were easily able to spread, whereas in the riveted design with a smaller size of each plate, the cracks got stopped much sooner, before they led to critical, uncontrolled advance and fracture across the whole ship.
This Tipper was able to elucidate, with detailed underpinning metallurgical understanding. You can find much more about this in a 2015 article ‘Revisiting (Some of) the Lasting Impacts of the Liberty Ships via a Metallurgical Analysis of Rivets from the SS “John W. Brown”’ published in the Journal of Materials, which provides a detailed technical explanation of why the problem arose. In the same journal issue there is another article, containing much more information about Tipper’s life, from which much of this post is derived. Although my own PhD was concerned with brittle failure in metals, and I learned about many of the underpinning ideas, her name was not one I was familiar with, as opposed to those such as Taylor and Orowan (men) whose names continue to be associated with the issue of brittle-ductile transitions in metals.
Ultimately the Engineering Department in Cambridge did appoint Tipper to a Readership (the old name for what is now known as an Associate Professor and, back then, a high rank to rise to when most people remained as lecturer as the ‘career grade’), the first and, for a long time, the only woman on their books as a member of the academic staff. For 11 years, until her retirement in 1960, she was able to enjoy appropriate professional recognition.
It seems appropriate that we celebrate her life today on her birthday – and in close proximity to February 11th, the International Day of Girls and Women in Science.
