The day you are accepted into medical school, you feel great. Your family is even calling you "doctor.'' But then the first day at school -- I started at Bowman Gray of Wake Forest in the fall of 1954 -- and you see all the material you must learn that semester, and you feel that you are not going to make the grade.
The dean welcomed us all. He said that we should not be overwhelmed. We were all highly selected, and it is their job to get us through. If he did not know our name at graduation that meant we were not first or last in our class of 54 students.
I would have been happy just to be anonymous and show up. I then needed to find a place to live since there were no dorms. I found a room a half a block from the school. The owner of the house was a man named Mr. Vickory. There were other students in the house, and it was also the home of the ASPCA.
My room for the first year was the porch. It was like sleeping in Macy’s window. The only reason it was private was there was no room for two. A senior rented the only single room in the house. I got that room the next three years.
Mr. Vickory was a southern gentleman who went to seed. He had one dog that was aptly named. We called him Blue, because that was his color. And there was another dog that had three legs. Mr. Vickory also was a drunk. Some of the boys kept a bottle in their rooms since there were no bars in Winston-Salem. He would steal some. That was bad enough, but then he would put water in the bottle so we were not supposed to know he was tapping into our liquor supply.
We decided to scare him. We added phenolphthalein that would show up as pink in his urine. Mr. Vickory was also a hypochondriac. When he saw his urine, he would then ask the senior medical student what to do and we would scare him. It only worked for a while. It didn't work if he drank gin, because the dye would give it away.
Classmates
Another housemate was Jim Thompson. He was a doctor’s son from near Syracuse. He came to school and was driving an old fire engine. He was later in my wedding party. The next year when I was an intern, he stopped by on his way home with a wedding present, which was a sterling silver champagne bucket and stand. Later, he became an Ophthalmologist and married a very proper young lady from Boston and lived outside of Baltimore. He was also a big-time sailor.
Our class was unusual because of all the outsiders, considering Wake Forest was a Baptist school. Out of 54, we had 12 from New York City. 10 Jews, one Greek, one Catholic and two women. They all graduated, did well and our class has always given the most money and were the most loyal.
Another classmate was Dick Snyder, the class historian. He and I stay in touch from time to time. At Wake Forest, his room was above the local funeral home.
I ate in the hospital cafeteria my first year. The first day, I thought I saw some Cream of Wheat and ordered it. I asked the server to put some milk on it, and everybody said I was crazy. They told me to put butter on it. I thought they were crazy. The Cream of Wheat turned out to be grits. Never again.
After my first year, I joined a fraternity, Phi Chi, and ate lunch and dinner at the frat house. We had a fraternity pet. It was a black widow spider in a jar. Don’t ask me why. Fortunately, nobody was bitten.
Going to Court
The first semester ended, and there was a dance. Sally came down from New York. She was due in on the afternoon of my biochemistry final. As I mentioned above our relationship was moving along very well and we wanted to continue. She would call me every Sunday evening at my house.
In between the first and second semester, we had a three-day break with parties and a formal dance. Unfortunately, her visit was cut short. The union people had taken a shot at Grandmother Maust's car in Pelham. Ray was very worried about her and sent a plane to bring her home immediately.
A week before Sally arrived, I had borrowed my friend’s car. A cop stopped me and said I ran a stop sign. He gave me a ticket and told me to go back and see the stop sign. I believed him since I had problems in the past with stop signs. When I went back, there was no stop sign.
I had to appear in court on the day of my bio exam. I was told to plead guilty because of the judge, who was Leroy Sams. He was like Roy Bean, the hanging judge in the Old West. I arrived early and took a seat. I did not notice anybody since I was going over my bio notes.
Then the judge came in and we all stood. Then the clerk said that everybody who wanted to plead guilty should line up along the right wall. I followed the crowd who ran to the wall. However, I didn’t notice that I was seated in the "Negro section.''
When it was my turn, I was asked how I would plead. I said guilty, but I asked to make a statement. The clerk said OK. The judge did not look up -- he was reading the newspaper. I told the clerk that I was accused of going through a stop sign at such a street and there is no stop sign there. After a deafening silence, the judge said, "Not guilty.''
I asked the clerk what I should do. He said I don’t know because we have never had anyone declared innocent before. But I had to pay cost of court.
Cranking Ice Cream
My first med-school winter vacation I visited Sally in Florida. JR, that's what we used to call Grandfather Maust, took over the top floor of a club on the water in Fort Lauderdale where he was a member. He also belonged to a local golf club. There was a pond in front of that clubhouse, and the club's pet alligator was named Oscar. He didn’t bother anybody, but you certainly did not go and feed him.
One of the good things about the third semester of med school was that it was easier than the two previous ones. That was when I learned to crank ice cream.
My third year was my first year on the wards. When I was on the surgery service, we had a chief resident who was tough. When you were holding the retractors at surgery, you could see nothing and he always complained how you held the retractor. He would tell you to shape up or ship out and the ships only went in one direction.
During med school, I had my summers off, though I still had my summer job at NANA. There were always more stories, but I will skip most of them.
Oral Roberts
In order to amuse ourselves at school, we would look forward to the annual visits by the evangelist Oral Roberts. R.J. Reynolds, the big tobacco company, would bring him in about the time for harvesting tobacco. This was to wake up the “locals.”
Oral Roberts would come to town and put up several big circus-type tents. It cost a dollar to get in. We were the only white people in the audience. Before Oral Roberts came out on stage, there were some songs by the "heavenly chorus'' and then the witness hour. There was a good-looking woman who said God had touched her and she proceeded to demonstrate where.
The ushers who were called "angels'' looked like longshoremen. For another dollar, you could go with them to another tent for a special devotion and blessing. I never did that.
All along the wall were TV cameras recording it all, and, several years later, I saw the show on a New York TV station.
Finally, Oral Roberts came out and by now the crowd was all fired up. He gave a sermon and then there was the healing hour. You could go up only if your admission ticket had certain letters. Before the healing hour, there had to be the miracle. One night, they brought a boy on crutches who I think was a cerebral palsy victim. He told the boy to believe and then drop his crutches. The boy was not sure, but he finally did drop his crutches and promptly fell on the floor.
The crowd didn’t boo Oral Roberts; they booed the boy for not believing. While all this was going on, Oral Roberts had a gambling operation in the Zinzendorf Hotel in Winston-Salem.
This whole thing was just another eye-opener for a boy from New York City.
Champagne and Brandy
Another one of my classmates was Doug Soo. He was quite wealthy. His family had fled China and moved to the Philippines. One time when I was in New York, he came on business for his father. I met him at a bar on the corner of 34th Street and Park Avenue that was called the Purple Tree. We had a few drinks. He suggested we drink 75s. That is champagne and brandy. I’ve heard of getting blind, but that night I went deaf. I never heard anything he said about business. It did not matter since I had no money anyway.
He later married a southern belle from the next class, and they raised a wonderful family together.
The rest of med school was relatively quiet. Though we wore white coats and were on the wards, everyone knew we were students and the ward clerks looked on us as if we did not exist.
One day before classes, I was looking over the charts of the patients assigned to me to draw labs or start IVs. I could not find the chart of one of them. I asked the clerk where it was. She curtly told me he jumped out a window. I thought she was being a smart-ass and I asked if he took his chart. He really did jump out the window. The chart was in the morgue.
The Baptists were very definite about admitting African-Americans. The local hospital for them was a terrible place called the Katy B, which was downtown near the R.J. Reynolds building. That place had no pediatric wing. Our chief of pediatrics came up with the idea of admitting them as "Indians.''
There were some Native Americans or "Indians'' in Lumberton, North Carolina. Oral Roberts did not know that during one of his visits. He thought these people were African-Americans, and a riot broke out and they called in the state police. The newspaper headline the next day read “Indians on War Path.”
After the Custer battle, many Native Americans were rounded up and sent to Florida. These were Cherokees who got lost. One was a classmate of mine. When we went to the movies to see a cowboy and Indian picture, he would say that someday the Indians would win.
Cheap Haircuts
Another benefit of medical school was finding ways to save money. There was a barber school in town, where they needed heads to practice on. They used to charge 25 cents. The haircuts worked out, but there some very unusual styles.
Some members of my family do not speak well of some of my clinical skills and suggested that I did not go to all my classes. I will share with you some of my medical knowledge. In dermatology, I learned that if it is wet, make it dry and if it is dry, then make it wet and put steroid on everything.
I even had a huge jug of steroid ointment and treated the entire family with it when they had any problem. I even had a separate jug for the dog.
In psychiatry, I learned that neurotics build castles and psychotics live in them. You now have my complete information about both those specialties.
I did well in my clinical years and came close to being Alpha Omega Alpha, which was the top 10 percent of the class. There were five in my class, and I was either 7 or 8.
Engagement
In June 1957, I was flying home and Sally picked me up at the airport. I had made up my mind to ask her to marry me and I popped the question near Grant's Tomb on the Hudson River. Her answer was yes. But then she said I would have to ask her parents.
Her father gave his OK, but said I needed to ask Sally's mother. I approached her while she was watering the flowers. She said yes. But then she said Sally had some flaws, but didn't say what they were. Her comment was a little troubling, but not informative as it all worked out for 52 years.
Grandfather Maust had several big parties for us after Sally and I became engaged. Everybody he knew gave us some spectacular gifts. Sally had gotten a red Ford convertible for graduating from college. It had Bermuda bells.
On Christmas Eve, I dressed up as Santa Claus and visited friends. I don’t know why the police did not stop us with the top down, ringing the bells and shouting out "Merry Christmas.''
At one house, I asked one of the little boys if he was good all year. Before I could stop him, he was struck by his conscience and it was like hearing Confession.
The Greenbriar Car
During the summer of 1957 when we were engaged, Sally's family went down to the Greenbriar for trip. I was invited, so I got a train a Friday night that would let me off at the Greenbriar. The train arrived very, very early Saturday morning. The "Greenbriar car'' was dropped off at the station before the train continued on its way.
When I woke up, there was a card with a green border pushed under my door saying that a car was waiting for me when I woke up and it would take me to the hotel.
It was a great weekend. When it was time for me to leave on late Sunday, everybody was going somewhere. I was taken to a desolate part of the tracks. It was a crossing. There no station or anybody and there I sat. However, my future father-in-law had promised me that a train would be there at a certain time and stop for me.
He was right. It happened just as he said. This was the result of another one of his phone calls. After all, he was the largest shipper on the C&O Railroad.
Wedding day
Sally and I were married on June 21, 1958 at St Catherine's Church in Pelham. The place was packed. Everyone came to the wedding reception at the Westchester Country Club. It was a busy month with final exams, graduation, medical boards, honeymoon and then the internship.
For our honeymoon, Sally and I went to Bermuda and stayed at a place call The Reefs. There was a cliff that jutted out with rooms along it. I had arranged to get the last one with the spectacular view.
When we arrived, the manager told me that the room was occupied and I could have one further down. In my usual soft manner, I told him what he could do. His argument was that the man was disabled. I said he didn't get injured in that room, so get him out. That was in my best humanitarian doctor tone.
The next day we changed rooms. It turned out this man owned the company that makes Reese’s peanut-butter candy bars.
Sally and I rode the motorbikes and went all over the island and drank swizzles. We came home and finished setting up our apartment in Greenwich Village, where I was interning at St. Vincent’s Hospital.