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

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Tom adjusts Dr. Stern's antenna. Anthony Panzetta. M.D. Chairperson Michael Ascher. Ph.D. John Ball. Ph.D. Philip Band. M.D. John Benson. M.D. Allan Cristol. M.D. Kenneth Draper. M.D. Edna Foa. Ph.D. Marc Forman. M.D. John Fryer, M.D. Alan Goldstein. Ph.D. Jonathan Grayson, Ph.D. John Harding, M.D. Louis Harris. Jr.. M.D. William Hetznecker. M.D. Richard Jaffe. M.D. Cynthia Jayne, Ph.D. Paul Latimer. M.D.. Ph.D. Leslie Lenox, M.S.W. Paul Mcllhenny, M.D. Peter Meyer, M.D. Marie Mignogna. M.D. Donald Overton. Ph.D. Richard Roemer. Ph.D. Charles Shagass, M.D. Barry Shmavonian. Ph.D. Roy Steinhouse. M.D. Ira Steisel, Ph.D. Roy Stern. M.D. John Straumanis, M.D. John Thomas. M.D. Ralph Turner. Ph.D. Joseph Wolpe. M.D. (Left to right) Drs. Fryer and Benson.

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PSYCHIATRY September came in the third year of our long journey, and we found ourselves to be in the magical City of Psychiatry: strange fruits hung from reflecting trees, exploding when they fell. All the fire hydrants were on a single street, and the people walking by, vanished and reappeared. The houses had dark windows, and shapes which changed as one entered in: some which pigsties seemed, hid gilt rooms; others looked like mansions, but as one crossed the threshold were swallowed into a shoe box, dark and small. In the East and West, behind high walls, were the patients' houses, with gables and jumbled lots, rusted out cars on their bellies, and sodden twisted mattresses. From strange angles I saw my own buildings reflected there. Somewhere in the sky the sun could not be seen but shot shards of light from the waste of broken glass. One noon I came from behind those walls to eat my lunch. Broad Street, my sea home for so long, floated shimmering among the desolate tracts of North Philadelphia. On the sidewalk, Koreans hawked perfect oranges forty sens cash, dolla fo' tree , and shoulder bags Made in Taiwan . Feasting black smoke of sheesh-kebabs curled into the nostrils through the sun; from Dox Truck, a sad smell of cold cakes, from Steve and Fly's, sweet sizzling grease, and people pouring happy hoagie bearing from Moffin's, like potatoes from a bag. Eight Chinese in one concession stand served Star flied lice wit swee' sow soss, $1.80. White stockingod nurses, doctors like crustaceans huddled, probosci waving, tentative; 8lacks, Hispanics. Caucs, Orientals, spun and mingled round the hospital. .... unusual case of Prinzmetal's... . . . .two cases of High Life . . . .'Oui no French' . .. .can't get it on .. . Don't know if he died . .. .the way to Patient Billing? ... .D.R.G.'s... ... .interesting pathology... . . . .mayonnaise, no peppers, please. Smells like fish, tastes like turkey . . .. .hey man, Moses took us to the promised land once . In the street, flakes of gold light were shed upon the planet's fluxing children and upon a warm wall I sat to watch them as by a babbling stream in summer season, and softly slipped upon me the silk sleeve of sleep. I dreamt that I was trying to cross a lake, encouraged by my father who was five years old. He had a switch with which he lopped the heads of goldenrods Come on, son, I get younger every day, and you get a day older. A boat was there, but the oars did not fit their locks. I only beat my father as far as that tree, said my father. Psychiatry 82

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 but a man ought to do what a man ought to do. On the other side of the water sat my mother making a daisy chain. I need one with two heads to complete the circle, she said. Then my father was with my mother on the far bank, and they left. I was in a town, which I knew well. I was lost, no one could understand me. Someone was dying. I needed to get to the hospital, I found the train, it pulled out backwards. When I got to Temple. I went to the I.C.U. Everyone was bustling about the dying patient, I went over to see. I saw that it was me. Penelope was my nurse; she was crying; I tried to tell her that I was fine, but my bps made no sound. I left to look after my own patients. By the elevator was a cleaning lady, round, cheery, black, with musical voice, who told me about South Carolina before the Great Depression, and then said Heal thyself, heal, Doctor, Doctor, heal thyself I Doctor. Doctor, Doctor! The sun light flashed black and white on my lids. Trying to assume a position of solemn contemplation I looked up into the bright eyes and teasing smile of my friend Joe Ben, chief among all my companions. Doctor, it's time to get back to clinic.” Dr. John Harding (top); Dr. Anthony Panzetta (midcfle) Dr. Allan Cristol (bottom). 84