Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons - P and S Yearbook (New York, NY)

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IN MEMORIAM DR DAVID RITTENBERG If., . A, 1906-1970 We all know the teachers who have reached out and touched us in the past few years, and they have been very few indeed. Dr. Rittenberg was one of those teachers. We could only guess at his scientific accomplishments, but his genius for delighting the wit and inspiring the minds of his students was obvious to all who learned from him. Most of us have forgotten the tortuous pathways of our tirst Biochemistry lecture, but can still hear the Professors closing remark: Look, only one of you 126 guys is the stupidest person in the class. Those are still pretty good odds. My own personal recollections of Dr. Rittenberg, however, are dominated by the bacchanalian rout which occurred at his home above the palisades late in the Fall of 1966. One blustery evening after classes the majority of our seminar group bundled into the rear seat of the Professor's Volkswagen and roared off. Our first stop was a Palestinian bakery. where we purchased several loaves of hard, heavy bread baked in the shape of a frisbee. The Professor then disagpeared into an un- marked and rather dilapidated storefront nearby, and emerge laden with several bottles of Greek wine, and enormous bag of real Greek black olives, and about a dozen of the fattest, blackest cigars I had ever seen. You guys are really going to eat tonight, he predicted as we dodged trattic on the George Washington bridge. And we really did. The frisbees. it turned out, we broke into pieces and emp oyed to devour a Middle Eastern version of Califor- nia dip. The meal itself, cooked by Dr. Rittenberg's good-natured and highly indul- gent wife, was stupendous. l still have a nice white shirt with two hand-sized wine stains on the front. But the coup de grace came post prandially. He led us into the drawing room. producing a bottle of ouzo. a vile and potent Greek liqueur, gave each of us one of the big black stogies. and settled back to hear what we had to say. I certainly don't remember much of our remarks, but I know that his interest and delight in having us in his home filled the room, and that whatever we said. he was listening to us. J. Madigan 16

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DEDI CA TI ON Harold W, Brown. B.A., Kalamazoo, 1924,' M.S.. Kansa.: Slate, 1925: Sc.D., Johns Hopkins, 19285 MD., Vanderbilt, 1933: Dr.P.H., Harvard 19365 L. H.D. Kalamazoo, 19455 LL.D., Puerto Rico, 1954. Come on in and sit down, Dave. What can I do for you? Dr. Brown, I'm happy to be the one to come and tell you that our class has selected you for the dedication of our yearbook. Thank you . . . I consider it a great honorf' And Dr. Brown did consider it a great honor. Hels that kind of man. He has traveled the world again and again, helped found medical schools in underdevel- oped jungle countries. been instrumental in the creation of numerous programs to bring medical care to the teeming masses, received countless medals and citations from grateful governments and people, and yet still feels genuinely honored when a group of students he has helped takes time out to express their thanks. Dr. Brown glanced briefly out the window at the world he understands and loves to share. He took a slow deep breath, and as he unhurriedly looked back toward me again, I settled back happily into my chair, knowing I was in for a treat. is