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

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Fred B. Rogers. M.D. Acting Chairman of the Department of Community Medicine

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Lorenzo Rodriguez-Peralta. M.D. Gail S. Crouse, Ph.D. Never again, Thank God, did we ever participate in so many exams as during that first semester! The gross practical, a kind of necrotic square-dance, was so choreographed that most got through it, though few gracefully. The pages of the writtens were as distinctive as their authors, with Crouse's and Rod's (the latter forever obsessed, for some reason, with inscrutably anastamosing arteries) always the crunchers. Daddy Huber's picture page, as all the world knows, came at just the right place in the exam, and abject was he who loused it up! Anatomy exams always came on Friday, as surely as the hospital cafeteria's clam chowder. Dr. Fred Rogers, the amiable and scholarly redhead who amazed and amused us with his excellent medical history series, remarked one week that . .. I used to give my course on Saturday mornings, but nobody came; now I have Thursday afternoons—foiled again! Indeed, toward the end of the semester, when exams were almost weekly, the Thursday matinees in Medical History and Psychiatry were pretty lonely sessions. Roger H. Davidheiser, Ph.D.

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As anatomy progressed that initial semester, and the class was together as a whole almost continuously, the 135 faces soon became less random. Definite sub-cultures became discernible: the vibrant Clutch Squad, the famous Northeast Carpool (soon to be demolished by fulminant marriage), the protest group, the Rugby players. Individuals emerged and could be counted upon. We relied on Fletch and Donna for questions, on Mary Scott for answers, and on Izes and Strode for truly funny commentary. A class personality was forming, at least to the extent possible in a large professional school, and it was best on display Christmas-Party Day. Rather than with traditional Carols, this affair more or less began with the peculiar chant, Get out of Fletcher's Chair . . . GET OUT OF FLETCHER'S CHAIR! . . aimed at Dr. Schneck who carelessly sat, well ... in Fletcher's chair. Then entered Stokes from Stage left, comically costumed as a bizarre combination of Daddy Huber and Father Christmas (drunks in the back row: Sock it to 'em, Santa! ), and dispensed the mandatory gifts to the faculty. Stokes was only outmatched by the Rod, a subtle master of stage presence, who somehow left Santa holding the wrappings (the gift was Reed Murtagh's portrait of Dr. Rodriguez as The Original Spanish Fly ). Dr. Troyer's Love Ode to the Class of 1971, delivered by the poet himself in beads and blond curls, and !