That afternoon, in the Dean's office, the school approved the application to establish a joint research laboratory.
It was also agreed that George would fund the establishment of the lab, while the school would provide certain forms of support, including allowing the lab to hire faculty members to participate in project research.
George appointed Osborn as the project leader for the laboratory, while he took on the responsibility of applying for the research topics.
If results were achieved, the school and Osborn would enjoy academic recognition, while George would retain all economic benefits.
This was a verbal agreement for now and needed to be formalized into a written contract as soon as possible.
Every new drug, before being introduced to the market, undergoes years—sometimes decades—of development to meet standards.
This includes not only pharmacological research but also clinical trials and numerous regulatory hurdles.
The main reason George sought cooperation with the university was to develop Penicillin.
Collaborating with the university would significantly benefit George in terms of time, policy support, and credibility.
Universities generally prioritize academic reputation, which did not conflict with George's focus on economic gains, laying a solid foundation for their partnership.
Moreover, the research was still in the project application phase, and no one could yet foresee the potential economic benefits of the technology.
Therefore, it was reasonable for George, as the sole investor in the lab, to hold full economic rights.
Two days later, in the university conference room, both parties signed the cooperation agreement.
George also signed a confidentiality agreement with Osborn.
Only then did George feel assured. Facing a discovery that could save countless lives, he couldn't help but feel solemn.
In his previous life, in 1928, British bacteriologist Alexander Fleming accidentally discovered the world's first antibiotic, Penicillin.
That summer, while on vacation, Fleming forgot a petri dish of Staphylococcus aureus in his lab. When he returned three weeks later, he noticed bluish-green mold had grown in the dish.
Upon closer observation, he found that the mold had dissolved the surrounding bacterial colonies.
This mold was identified as Penicillium notatum, and the antibacterial substance it secreted was named Penicillin. However, Fleming was unable to purify it for clinical use.
He published his findings in 1929, but the paper was largely ignored by the scientific community.
In 1938, German-born chemist Ernst Chain came across Fleming's forgotten paper and began experiments to purify Penicillin.
Fleming had observed under a microscope that the mold secreted something capable of inhibiting bacterial growth. However, he never found a method to extract high-purity Penicillin.
He kept cultivating the mold and, in 1939, shared it with pathologist Howard Florey and biochemist Ernst Chain, who began systematic studies.
In 1940, Florey and Chain retested Penicillin. They injected a lethal dose of Streptococcus into eight mice and treated four with Penicillin. Only the treated mice survived.
Subsequent clinical trials proved its effectiveness against a range of bacterial infections, such as Streptococcus and diphtheria.
Penicillin works by blocking the synthesis of bacterial cell walls, causing them to rupture. Human and animal cells, which lack cell walls, remain unaffected.
In late 1940, Chain succeeded in extracting a small amount of Penicillin, a breakthrough, but still not suitable for mass production.
In 1941, Australian pathologist Walter Florey continued the effort, and with U.S. military support, increased Penicillin production from 2 to 40 units per cubic centimeter.
Around the same time, British scientists at Oxford University succeeded in purifying Penicillin. Despite its effectiveness, it could trigger allergic reactions, so skin testing became necessary.
Most antibiotics are extracted from microbial cultures, though some are now synthetically produced.
Due to varied chemical compositions, antibiotics target different microbial functions—some inhibit protein or nucleic acid synthesis, while others disrupt cell wall construction.
Eventually, Florey and Chain freeze-dried Penicillin into crystals. Florey also discovered a mold on a cantaloupe that enabled large-scale extraction, using a cornflour-based medium.
In 1942, driven by these breakthroughs, U.S. pharmaceutical companies began large-scale production. By 1943, mass production techniques had been established.
During WWII, Penicillin effectively treated wound infections. In October 1943, Florey signed the first production contract with the U.S. military.
By 1944, supplies were sufficient to treat all Allied soldiers. Penicillin's impact was profound—it changed the course of the war and saved millions of lives.
In 1945, Fleming, Florey, and Chain jointly received the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for their discovery and its clinical application.
Penicillin marked a new era in medicine, paving the way for the antibiotic age.
In this life, with George already mastering the key elements, developing Penicillin was expected to proceed smoothly.
Now, his focus had to shift toward protecting this future goldmine.
Release it freely? Ridiculous. Doing so would only enrich rival pharmaceutical companies.
In his past life, Penicillin led to the rise of two industry giants.
By November, the lab's initial investment remained modest.
George contributed funding, direction, and strategy, while Osborn and a team of senior students carried out practical work.
George spent weekends delivering alcoholic beverages, earning another $1.8 million.
With the market stabilizing, monthly revenue from liquor sales has now consistently reached $1.8 million.
Though it could grow, George lacked the time to expand and had no plans to prioritize liquor sales.
On the 4th, George was informed by Morgan Bank that negotiations with Durant were about to begin, and he was welcome to attend.
Sensing an opportunity, George took a leave from school and traveled to New York on the 5th.
At Morgan Bank, he joined Durant, Little Morgan, and Pierre Samuel DuPont for a closed-door meeting.
After two hours of negotiation, George acquired Durant's 12% stake in General Motors for $39 million and signed the agreement on the spot.
This made George the third-largest shareholder in General Motors, holding 13.8%, behind the DuPont and Morgan families.
He only paid $3.9 million upfront; the remainder was financed by Morgan Securities Center.
After signing, Durant left dejected, and none of the three parties saw him off.
Following that, they signed a joint contract for a new battery venture.
The newly registered battery companies would be co-owned: George held 40% via technology investment, while the DuPont and Morgan families oversaw production and sales.
George also acquired Wells Fargo Bank for $45 million and borrowed $50 million from Morgan Bank, using patents for electric start, seat adjustment, and headrests as collateral.
After these transactions, George still had $1.1 million left, which he used to purchase a commercial radio license and a full radio station from the DuPont family.
Each party walked away satisfied. George had essentially leveraged future patent income to gain valuable assets.
By 1926, General Motors stock had risen to $210 per share.
George would receive 10% of the sale price of every GM car in patent royalties, separate from dividends.
He also promised not to license these patents to other manufacturers for at least three months.
That evening, the DuPont family hosted a lavish banquet on Wall Street. With Pierre DuPont assuming both Chairman and General Manager roles, the DuPonts became General Motors' biggest winners.
George, now the second most popular figure at the event, networked with prominent personalities from various fields. The night felt like a delayed birthday celebration.
The next morning, New York's newspapers were filled with reports praising DuPont's leadership.
Some hinted at GM adopting cutting-edge technologies. George was only briefly mentioned, under the familiar headline: "The Luckiest Young Man."
This, George realized, was the power of public opinion control.
Even if DuPont's stock didn't soar immediately, it certainly wouldn't fall.
He set those thoughts aside and focused on company matters with Paul.
George now owned Winchester Company and Panlong Aviation in the military sector.
At the U.S. military procurement conference in October, he secured $4.5 million in contracts for the Winchester M1 Orwell rifle and Panlong's P29 and F4B fighter jets.
Both companies were profitable, but instead of withdrawing funds, George reinvested in R&D.
He also owned shares in General Motors and fully owned the Lincoln Company.
While not involved in GM's management, he closely oversaw Lincoln, which had finished production line upgrades and was preparing for mass production.
George still paid workers' wages monthly, though costs were low.
Both cola brands were now profitable. Pepsi had delisted, and George was channeling profits into celebrity endorsements and aggressive marketing to shift its low-end image.
It was too soon to see results.
George also owned five small home appliance companies that required small monthly subsidies for wages but were otherwise stable.
Panlong Security Company had completed recruitment, and Ryan had taken 120 recruits for specialized training at the winery.
George planned to personally activate their Chakra seeds.
Newly acquired businesses included Wells Fargo Bank and Panlong Broadcast Company, both located outside New York and requiring site visits.
The two laboratories were progressing well, remaining in the investment phase.
Financially, after investing in the stock market in June, George had over $6 million left.
From June to November, liquor profits exceeded $9 million, and closing futures positions netted him $50 million (from a $10 million principal).
Combined with the $50 million patent loan, George earned $125 million in six months, excluding novel-related income.
His expenditures were also high—$68 million for company acquisitions and about $70 million total after adding wages and operating costs.
The current company account balance stood at $55 million, held at American Bank.
George could pay for the GM shares in full, but there was no need—thanks to the high-leverage financial environment of the era, which only began to unwind after 1930.