On the night of April 12, 1955, while under studio lights opposite Edward R. Murrow on *See It Now*, Jonas Salk faced a straightforward inquiry regarding the polio vaccine he had dedicated seven years to developing. Who held the patent? As widely reported, Salk replied to the question about the ownership of the patent for his polio vaccine by stating there was no patent, cleverly asking if one could patent the sun. This interaction, [confirmed in Slate’s account of the broadcast](https://slate.com/technology/2014/04/the-real-reasons-jonas-salk-didnt-patent-the-polio-vaccine.html), aired live to a nation that had learned earlier that same day that the vaccine was safe and effective against paralytic polio.
This choice cost Salk an estimated seven billion dollars in lost potential wealth, but he appeared unfazed. Within ten years, countless children had rolled up their sleeves for a vaccine whose formulation was essentially open-source.
## The illness that instilled fear in the nation
To grasp the essence of that response, one must comprehend the impact polio was having on American childhood. In the years preceding the vaccine, poliomyelitis was paralyzing thousands of children in the United States annually. Iron lungs filled hospital wards. Public swimming pools closed each summer. Parents kept children indoors in August in a manner akin to how people monitor wildfire smoke maps today.
The virus transmitted via the fecal-oral route and had no cure—treatment at the time, as summarized by [The Better India in its history of India’s polio fight](https://thebetterindia.com/22182/success-story-of-eradication-of-polio-in-india/), involved symptom management and hoping paralysis didn’t affect the muscles necessary for breathing.
Salk began his vaccine research at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine in the late 1940s. By the early 1950s, he developed an experimental trivalent solution targeting all three known virus strains. He first tested it on himself, his wife, and his three sons.
## The largest medical field trial ever
The field trial in 1954 was a massive undertaking. Millions of American schoolchildren in various states—the “Polio Pioneers”—were administered either the Salk vaccine, a placebo, or received no treatment at all. Hundreds of thousands were indeed inoculated. Their parents, teachers, and family doctors filled out forms. Public health officials monitored every case.
The funding for this massive effort did not originate from a pharmaceutical company; it came from coins. The National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis—the organization later recognized as the March of Dimes—garnered donations from tens of millions of Americans in the years preceding the vaccine announcement. The foundation’s annual budget had significantly increased leading up to the trial, with Walt Disney’s cartoon characters recording anti-polio songs and schools conducting coin drives.
By the time Murrow posed his inquiry, the public had already, quite literally, financed the vaccine. Seeking a patent for profit would have meant charging them twice.
## The remark about the sun
This phrase has become one of the most cited moments in American science history. It is brief, rhetorical, and conveys a moral message as a question. It has been inscribed on plaques, printed on posters, and recited by medical students across generations.
The reality behind the statement is somewhat more complex than the myth suggests. According to documents uncovered by Jane Smith, author of *Patenting the Sun: Polio and the Salk Vaccine*, attorneys for the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis *had* indeed considered a patent application prior to the interview. They determined that the vaccine would not meet the novelty requirement under U.S. patent law. The absence of a patent stemmed partly from Salk and his supporters’ desire against filing for one and partly from the lawyers’ uncertainty about securing one.
Furthermore, the foundation had already shared the formulation and manufacturing processes with several pharmaceutical companies at no charge. The decision regarding profiting from the vaccine was already internally settled before Murrow’s cameras began rolling.
## The appearance of seven billion dollars
The $7 billion figure is an estimate, not an official audit. Analysts have approached the calculations in various ways: royalty streams from hundreds of millions of doses, licensing fees from international producers, the potential market capitalization supported solely by Salk’s name. Even the lower estimates fall into the low billions. Salk, in a single sentence on live television, declined a tremendous fortune.
Although he was not impoverished afterward—the Salk Institute in La Jolla was established with foundation and philanthropic support, and he continued to receive a scientific salary—he never rose to the status of a pharmaceutical mogul like Howard Hughes. He