Temple University School of Medicine - Skull Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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semester could be as taxing as any other. Most of us weren’t strictly conscientious about it, however, because the clinical subjects did not have much meaning for us as yet. Pharmacology we could understand, because there was a certain amount of material to cover, plus a lab. and this setup was what we were used to. Hematology was roughly the same, although more clinically oriented. But even though some of the professors in the clinical fields gave excellent lectures, such as ‘Sugar Charlie’ Shuman and Bert Channick in Medicine, it all held little significance for us because we had not had sufficient patient contact to make it meaningful. Anatomy review with ‘Daddy’ Huber was uninspiring, and George Mark in Physical Diagnosis was no ball of fire. Mike Free made a reasonably good thing out of potentially dull Biostatistics, while Pediatrics blew hot and cold, mostly cold. Obstetrics we found came strictly from the textbook. Surgery was uniformly unimpressive, with the lone exception of Vince Lauby, who lectured creditably. Medicine was generally excellent, with the sole exception of George Farrar who made a real mess of Nutrition in the short time alloted him. Bob Cohen was uniformly superb. Psychiatry was intriguing. The one big time-consumer, however, was Pharmacology, which rates as one of the best of the basic sciences at Temple. The subject matter is hardly captivating, but the department personnel are well-qualified and make a sincere effort to teach. Roger Scvv, a very capable department head, never gave a bad lecture, and Charlie Papacostas bent over backwards for the student, a genuinely nice person who spoke well. Most of the rest of the department was at least tolerable, and the labs were well run and informative. George Mayo’s sessions on how to write prescriptions and MFt hand cream were the only black marks on the slate. Hematology lacked spark as a department, and the nationally-known department chief at that time, Chris Zaragonetis, was a poor speaker. Jim Day could lecture reasonably well, and Ros Joseph tolerably so, but there it ended. I dwell so long on jjerson-alities to make just one point: the second semester was a time when we all became stenographers and grew callouses on our bottoms (except for the student who brought a cushion every day), sitting for as long as seven or eight hours a day taking notes. This can be far more wearing than physical exercise, moreover, due to the incredible tedium involved. That second semester provided a few new wrinkles in an otherwise routine slate. The Wednesday and Saturday visits to various hospitals around the city for practical physical diagnosis provided an opportunity for many of us to play the doctor role, and little black bags began to appear in which the gifts from Eli Lilly Co. could be heard rattling around hollowly. There was a clever “syndicate” of students who regularly gathered around a duplicating machine to catch up on various lectures they had cut. Having reached this “advanced” stage in our medical education. many of us sought night work as junior interns or laboratory technicians to bolster sagging treasuries (In disobedience of Dean’s Office pronouncements on the subject). It really was impossible for 28