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

Page 11 text:

room, a lanky, thin, somewhat drawn man squirms uncomfortably in a chair not made for his dimensions. He tries first one position, then another. Moments later, he settles into a cross-legged, semi-reclining slouch, the lab coat in careless disarray. He straightens it. wraps it about his limbs and relaxes to the monotonous recitative. Now the signals begin. Much as the classic parody of a third-base baseball coach, “Cas” begins his routine of hand and facial movements: right hand to forehead; stroke the temple: rub the chin; join the index fingers and prop the nose with the so-formed buttress; scratch the cheek. He shifts his position in the chair and begins the routine anew. The dis-cussor must have received the signal for he begins a recital of statistical studies. Numbers are juggled, three cherries appear in the slot and the treatment, as recommended, pops out at the bottom of the machine. Having appeared lethargic throughout the entire conference. “Cas'' is now wide awake. Sitting bolt upright, he begins the destruction of the discussor's theories, hopes, and fantasies The coup de grace is administered by recounting the tale of the female patient whose symptoms, diagnosis, and treatment run counter to everything recommended by the standard authorities—the statistical dictators. The lesson to be learned is that the physician is an entity, the patient another entity, and that a treatment must be devised which is satisfactory and acceptable to both. This, to the student, is the reality of H. Taylor Caswell, surgeon. It is not a Hollywood vision of flashing steel, grandeloquent gestures, heroic deeds, and primadonna temperament. Rather, it is the image of a great teacher; patient, yet demanding, informative, but not didactic. He is a product of Temple’s educational philosophy just as he now perpetuates it: the production of a highly skilled, knowledgeable, free-thinking clinician. “Cas” wears many hats to many different people. He is president of the faculty, author of respected papers, protector to his patients, and father of four boys including a member of our own class. But to the Class of 1968. H. Taylor Caswell is a great teacher.

Page 10 text:

H. Taylor Caswell, M.D. The conference room, with its antiseptic lack of color, is quickly hushed. Several handsful of students concentrate on the droning recitation of a student discussor. Infrequently, a distant page is heard; the hospital has just begun to awaken. Somewhere near the rear of the room, cigarette smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling. Along the side of the

Page 12 text:

The house is a large double one with fourteen rooms, admirably adapted to hospital purposes. It stands on a plot of ground fifty by two hundred and twenty feet, which is tastefully laid out in lawns, flower beds, trees, walks, etc. and presents an appearance, inside and out. of a large private home rather than a hospital—a feature quickly observed and highly appreciated by the patients. —Report of Samaritan Hospital. 1892