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Farmer, surgeon, soldier, friend
Farmer, Surgeon, Soldier, Friend *
I have known Robert Milton Zollinger for 42 years and it is indeed a privilege for me for the first time to write something complimentary about him. The trouble with Zolly is that he has such varied interests, such extraordinary talents, and a record of accomplishments that is so superior that it is embarrassing to him to have the facts put on the table. Indeed, it is much easier and so much more fun to list the number of times he has been caught off base! But for once I will restrain myself and keep the record straight. I first knew Bob Zollinger when I was an intern and he was the resident surgeon at the Peter Bent Brigham Hospital. Although only a few years separated us in age, the professional gap from intern to resident surgeon, especially in those days of the original HaIsted System, approached infinity. No matter who he was, the resident walked on water. But in Zolly’s case, he walked above the water, like today’s hydrofoil! Actually, in my opinion, he was the greatest resident surgeon that the Peter Bent Brigham has ever had. And that fact, as well as his many other contributions to surgery, was recognized on the occasion of the Brigham’s 50th reunion, when he became one of the few recipients of the cherished Brigham Gold Medal When the winds of World War II began to stir, Zolly joined “the unit,” the Fifth General Hospital. As he had already established a very fine private practice and was under no obligation to serve, his actions set an admirable example for others to follow. Just prior to our departure, our chief, Professor Elliott Cutler, gave a small group of us a fight talk about how much it would mean to us to go to war. He pointed out how successful all of the surgeons in the original university units had been. I can remember him saying, “You will be just like us. You’ll run American surgery for the next 30 years.” A few months later we were sunk into the cold, drizzle, and mud of Fort Dix, New Jersey. Zolly had a touch of the flu and was feeling not only physically miserable, but also generally depressed. In an effort to cheer him up, I said, “Zolly, you heard what the chief said. When we come back, we’ll run American surgery for the next 30 years.” He gave me one of his classic expressions of incredible disbelief. “Don’t be * Reprinted from the November 1974 Tribute issue of the Journal. The author. Dr. J. Engleberf Dunphy. died on December 27. 196 1.
648
so stupid,” he said, “Look who they had in Base Hospital No. 5: Cushing, Cutler, Horrax, Coller, Wilson.” All of them became leaders in American surgery. Then he looked at me. “Who do we have? You and me. And when I look at you, I get terribly discouraged!” We went first to North Ireland and England, and there we realized the advantages of having as our chief of surgery not only a soldier but a farmer as well. Within a few weeks in North Ireland, Zolly had a couple of platoons of enlisted men tilling and seeding a garden. Before long, we were the most envied unit in that beautifully green, wet, miserable part of the world. We had fantastic fresh vegetables for our mess every day. When we moved to England, Zolly’s accomplishments were now so well established that he was appointed the post beautification officer. If you would like to see what he accomplished, drive to Odstock, just outside of Salisbury, England, where there is today a special hospital. The grounds are exquisite and represent the longrange design of a master farmer. His expertise with gourds and roses has given him a national reputation. He is a judge and has been president of the American Rose Society. Zolly was not content to be chief of the surgical service and post beautification officer. Beginning in North Ireland and later in Salisbury, he designed model equipment for fast-moving surgical teams, much of which was put into action shortly after the landing in Normandy. By this time, he had left us to become one of the chief consultants to General Hawley, the theater surgeon, but returned to us to take over as our commanding officer in Normandy. For his contributions and leadership, Zolly received the Legion of Merit and was promoted to full colonel. In the grim winter of ‘44, after the German breakthrough in the Battle of the Bulge, we received orders to prepare to evacuate all equipment and personnel. Only the commanding officer was to remain to greet the advancing enemy. The same day, we were receiving 200 German prisoners of war for our labor force. At his staff meeting, Zolly asked if the stockade, tents, blankets, and so forth were ready for the prisoners. The reply was “Yes.” “Will it be comfortable?” he asked. “Comfortable enough for prisoners,” the executive officer replied. “Well,
TheAm&can
Journal of Surgery
SalUte
make it a little more comfortable,” Zolly quipped, “I be in it!” It was not long after our return to the Brigham that he accepted the post as professor and chairman of the department of surgery at Ohio State University School of Medicine. The rest is comparatively recent history. What was a very ordinary and scarcely recognized department of surgery became one of the best known surgical units in the world. A succession of outstanding young men came out of Ohio State to assume Chairs of Surgery all over the country. The leadership of this department in clinical and investigative gastrointestinal surgery and physiology needs no mentioning here. I have always taken special pride that my great friend described the clinical syndrome caused by an excess of gastrin, the first gastrointestinal hormone recognized. And, in my opinion, he has done the same for the second hormone, secretin. Throughout his surgical career, Zolly has held a position of leadership in American surgery: president of the Society of University Surgeons, president of the American Surgical Association, presimay
Volume 151, June 1986
to Robert M. Zollinger,
MD
dent of the Society for Surgery of the Alimentary Tract, and regent, vice president, and president of the American College of Surgeons. None of his honors has changed him. He has always been a mouse in the exterior frame of a wolf. His bark is worse than his bite but its hard to make that point with anyone who has been bitten! The standards of surgical perfection that he has set for all who work with him, but especially his residents, are legendary.. He’s been unbelievably tough but all who know him realize that his heart is bigger than his belly. His residents recognized this many years ago when they formed the Robert M. Zollinger Club, one of the most successful and loyal surgical groups of its kind. This publication of The American Journal of Surgery, which he has brought to a position of outstanding leadership among surgical journals, is just one more example of how high he is held in the hearts and minds of his students, residents, colleagues, and friends. J. Engleberl Dunphy, MD San Francisco, California
649
I have known Robert Milton Zollinger for 42 years and it is indeed a privilege for me for the first time to write something complimentary about him. The trouble with Zolly is that he has such varied interests, such extraordinary talents, and a record of accomplishments that is so superior that it is embarrassing to him to have the facts put on the table. Indeed, it is much easier and so much more fun to list the number of times he has been caught off base! But for once I will restrain myself and keep the record straight. I first knew Bob Zollinger when I was an intern and he was the resident surgeon at the Peter Bent Brigham Hospital. Although only a few years separated us in age, the professional gap from intern to resident surgeon, especially in those days of the original HaIsted System, approached infinity. No matter who he was, the resident walked on water. But in Zolly’s case, he walked above the water, like today’s hydrofoil! Actually, in my opinion, he was the greatest resident surgeon that the Peter Bent Brigham has ever had. And that fact, as well as his many other contributions to surgery, was recognized on the occasion of the Brigham’s 50th reunion, when he became one of the few recipients of the cherished Brigham Gold Medal When the winds of World War II began to stir, Zolly joined “the unit,” the Fifth General Hospital. As he had already established a very fine private practice and was under no obligation to serve, his actions set an admirable example for others to follow. Just prior to our departure, our chief, Professor Elliott Cutler, gave a small group of us a fight talk about how much it would mean to us to go to war. He pointed out how successful all of the surgeons in the original university units had been. I can remember him saying, “You will be just like us. You’ll run American surgery for the next 30 years.” A few months later we were sunk into the cold, drizzle, and mud of Fort Dix, New Jersey. Zolly had a touch of the flu and was feeling not only physically miserable, but also generally depressed. In an effort to cheer him up, I said, “Zolly, you heard what the chief said. When we come back, we’ll run American surgery for the next 30 years.” He gave me one of his classic expressions of incredible disbelief. “Don’t be * Reprinted from the November 1974 Tribute issue of the Journal. The author. Dr. J. Engleberf Dunphy. died on December 27. 196 1.
648
so stupid,” he said, “Look who they had in Base Hospital No. 5: Cushing, Cutler, Horrax, Coller, Wilson.” All of them became leaders in American surgery. Then he looked at me. “Who do we have? You and me. And when I look at you, I get terribly discouraged!” We went first to North Ireland and England, and there we realized the advantages of having as our chief of surgery not only a soldier but a farmer as well. Within a few weeks in North Ireland, Zolly had a couple of platoons of enlisted men tilling and seeding a garden. Before long, we were the most envied unit in that beautifully green, wet, miserable part of the world. We had fantastic fresh vegetables for our mess every day. When we moved to England, Zolly’s accomplishments were now so well established that he was appointed the post beautification officer. If you would like to see what he accomplished, drive to Odstock, just outside of Salisbury, England, where there is today a special hospital. The grounds are exquisite and represent the longrange design of a master farmer. His expertise with gourds and roses has given him a national reputation. He is a judge and has been president of the American Rose Society. Zolly was not content to be chief of the surgical service and post beautification officer. Beginning in North Ireland and later in Salisbury, he designed model equipment for fast-moving surgical teams, much of which was put into action shortly after the landing in Normandy. By this time, he had left us to become one of the chief consultants to General Hawley, the theater surgeon, but returned to us to take over as our commanding officer in Normandy. For his contributions and leadership, Zolly received the Legion of Merit and was promoted to full colonel. In the grim winter of ‘44, after the German breakthrough in the Battle of the Bulge, we received orders to prepare to evacuate all equipment and personnel. Only the commanding officer was to remain to greet the advancing enemy. The same day, we were receiving 200 German prisoners of war for our labor force. At his staff meeting, Zolly asked if the stockade, tents, blankets, and so forth were ready for the prisoners. The reply was “Yes.” “Will it be comfortable?” he asked. “Comfortable enough for prisoners,” the executive officer replied. “Well,
TheAm&can
Journal of Surgery
SalUte
make it a little more comfortable,” Zolly quipped, “I be in it!” It was not long after our return to the Brigham that he accepted the post as professor and chairman of the department of surgery at Ohio State University School of Medicine. The rest is comparatively recent history. What was a very ordinary and scarcely recognized department of surgery became one of the best known surgical units in the world. A succession of outstanding young men came out of Ohio State to assume Chairs of Surgery all over the country. The leadership of this department in clinical and investigative gastrointestinal surgery and physiology needs no mentioning here. I have always taken special pride that my great friend described the clinical syndrome caused by an excess of gastrin, the first gastrointestinal hormone recognized. And, in my opinion, he has done the same for the second hormone, secretin. Throughout his surgical career, Zolly has held a position of leadership in American surgery: president of the Society of University Surgeons, president of the American Surgical Association, presimay
Volume 151, June 1986
to Robert M. Zollinger,
MD
dent of the Society for Surgery of the Alimentary Tract, and regent, vice president, and president of the American College of Surgeons. None of his honors has changed him. He has always been a mouse in the exterior frame of a wolf. His bark is worse than his bite but its hard to make that point with anyone who has been bitten! The standards of surgical perfection that he has set for all who work with him, but especially his residents, are legendary.. He’s been unbelievably tough but all who know him realize that his heart is bigger than his belly. His residents recognized this many years ago when they formed the Robert M. Zollinger Club, one of the most successful and loyal surgical groups of its kind. This publication of The American Journal of Surgery, which he has brought to a position of outstanding leadership among surgical journals, is just one more example of how high he is held in the hearts and minds of his students, residents, colleagues, and friends. J. Engleberl Dunphy, MD San Francisco, California
649