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TRIBUTES TO J. WILLIS HURST, MD

Willis Hurst in MemoriamCharles R. Hatcher, Jr., MD*

Cardiology lost a giant on October 1, 2011, with thedeath of Dr. J. Willis Hurst in Atlanta, Georgia. Dr. Hurstdied at Emory University Hospital from complications of astroke. He was 91 years old.

Willis will best be remembered as the long-term chair-man of the Department of Medicine of the Emory Univer-sity School of Medicine (30 years); as the editor or coeditorwith Drs. Bruce Logue, Robert Schlant, and NanetteWenger of The Heart; and as personal physician to Presi-ent Lyndon Johnson.

In addition to his wife, Nelie (61 years of happyarriage), and 3 sons, John, Jr., Stephen, and Philip, Dr.urst’s personal passions were teaching, writing, andatient care. Among his teaching awards, he received theaster Teacher Award twice from the American College

f Cardiology, the Gifted Teacher Award from the Amer-can College of Physicians, and the Pappageorge Awardor Excellence in Teaching at Emory. Dr. Hurst created8 medical books and published 461 scientific articles.urst’s The Heart continues to be the leading textbook in theeld of cardiology. One day at the White House to care forresident Johnson and the next caring for the poorest patientst Grady Memorial Hospital, Willis Hurst always providedxcellent patient care.

Fortunately, he was recognized for his many contribu-ions to the medical profession during his lifetime. Dr. Hursterved as president of the American Heart Association in971 and 1972 and as president of the American Society ofrofessors of Medicine 1985 and 1986. After becoming aember of the Sub-Specialty Board of Cardiovascular Dis-

ases in 1965, he served as chairman of the board from 1967o 1970. He was a Founder and President of the Paul Dudley

hite Society in 1974 and was asked to give the memorialddress when Dr. White died.

I had the privilege of working with Willis Hurst for 49ears and enjoyed his support and advice as chief of car-iothoracic surgery, as director of the Emory Clinic (ofhich Dr. Hurst was a founding member), and as viceresident for health affairs and director of the Robert W.oodruff Health Sciences Center.J. Willis Hurst was a remarkable and unique individual

nd physician. He should be the ideal role model for alloung people who enter the medical profession.

Robert W. Woodruff Health Sciences Center, Emory University, At-lanta, Georgia. Manuscript received December 8, 2011; revised manuscriptreceived and accepted December 8, 2011.

*Corresponding author: Tel: 404-778-5860.

E-mail address: chatc01@emory.edu (C.R. Hatcher).

0002-9149/12/$ – see front matterdoi:10.1016/j.amjcard.2011.12.006

“Just Being Willis”

Douglas Morris, MD*

My reflections on Dr. J. Willis Hurst should begin with2 acknowledgments. First, I am very honored to be askedto write this piece about a man who served as a mentor,adviser, and supporter to me for the past 30 years. Sec-ond, I borrowed the title for my reflections from my goodfriend Wayne Alexander. When Wayne assumed thechairmanship of the Emory University Department ofMedicine, Dr. Hurst inquired as to how he could continueto effectively contribute to the department. Wayne re-sponded that Dr. Hurst would be the most help by “justbeing Willis.” This article is about my reflections on whatit meant for Dr. Hurst to “just be Willis.” It is not writtento remind you of his many outstanding accomplishments,such as the following: being selected by Dr. Paul DudleyWhite to be 1 of his final 2 cardiology fellows; assumingthe chairmanship of the Department of Medicine at Em-ory University at age 35 and remaining chairman for 30years; being chosen by President Lyndon Johnson as hispersonal cardiologist and becoming the president’s closefriend; being selected as the president of the AmericanHeart Association; and giving birth to the most widelyread, authoritative textbook on heart disease and one thatcontinues to bear his name.

Instead, in this article I focus on the more private sideof this esteemed public figure. It is about a man whoawakened in the early morning hours to allow himselftime to think and plan in silence. Dr. Hurst believed thatfor a person to reach his or her full potential, he or shemust allow moments of solitude and silence, uninter-rupted by the disruptions of daily life. “Being Willis”meant being annoyed by the seemingly constant screech-ing of cell phones and pagers. “Being Willis” provokedhim to expound the fact that these interruptions were notconducive to good medical care, because they hinderlogical thought progression and divert the physician’sattention from the patient.

“Being Willis” also meant being the first faculty physi-cian rounding in the hospital each day. These early roundswere not visits to patients’ rooms but rather visits to thenursing stations. In discussions with the nurses, Willisgained insight into the demeanor, cooperativeness, andcommitment of his house officers. These visits alerted himto a house officer’s inadequate documentation or a lack ofclarity in thought processes. “Being Willis” meant proceed-ing from these early morning rounds to “morning report,”beginning at 6:45 AM. Demanding punctuality from a tardyhouse officer, with the curt reminder that arriving late was

Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia. Manuscript received November 1,2011; revised manuscript received and accepted November 3, 2011.

*Corresponding author: Tel: 404-778-4801; fax: 404-778-5020.

E-mail address: douglas.morris@emoryhealthcare.org (D. Morris).

www.ajconline.org

1074 The American Journal of Cardiology (www.ajconline.org)

disrespecting and abusing others’ “time,” was just “beingWillis.” To Willis, tardiness reflected a lack of disciplinethat he abhorred. These morning reports provided Willis theopportunity to share the excitement of learning with youngphysicians. Willis truly enjoyed learning, and he proddedothers to learn. He did not insist that they learn facts but thatthey learn to teach themselves and appreciate the joy of thataccomplishment. He stressed to his house staff that “remem-bering is not the same as thinking. It is nice to memorize,but one must be able to process and use the facts that arememorized.”

The folklore of Grady Hospital provides us with a goodexample of Willis’s expectations of his house staff and hisdevotion to his patients, regardless of their status in life. Asthe story goes, Willis is rounding with the house staff andbecomes particularly concerned and perplexed by a very illhomeless person. He stipulates that the residents must fol-low the man closely and obtain some stat laboratory data. Acouple of hours later, he calls the house staff’s office andasks for the results of the laboratory data. The resident whoanswers the phone states that he has not checked on the data,because he was too busy and didn’t have the time. Dr. Hurstasks if the resident is aware of whom he is talking to. Theresident says “no” and is informed that the caller is WillisHurst. The resident immediately asks if Dr. Hurst knows towhom he is speaking. When Dr. Hurst replies “no,” theresident says “good” and hurriedly hangs up, never to beidentified by Dr. Hurst.

“Being Willis” meant that, as he progressed throughhis career, he was steadfast in adhering to this morningroutine. His activities during the remainder of the daychanged as did his position, his responsibilities, and hisobligations. These activities included directing and oversee-ing a department of medicine, editing his textbook on heartdisease, traveling on behalf of the American Heart Associa-tion, presenting distinguished lectureship throughout theworld, attending to a United States president, and, mostimportant, being a beloved husband and father. Needlessto say, Willis fulfilled these responsibilities in a disci-plined and tireless manner. “Being Willis,” he alwaysfound time to write. Some of his colleagues would laugh-ingly say that “being Willis” meant that he had writtenmore than most of us had read. His writings stretched farbeyond medical manuscripts to medical history, to re-membrances of his time with President Johnson, even toshort stories and novels.

As the years marched by, the essence of “being Willis”became more fully defined. First, there was an increasingemphasis on the dictum that being a physician meant that onetreated not only the disease but the person with the disease.Second, it became apparent that “being Willis” meant that hewelcomed change and demonstrated his creativity in respond-ing to change. Finally, “being Willis” meant that Dr. Hurstoften urged others to persist in their efforts to expand theirmedical knowledge, while not ignoring opportunities to furthertheir general knowledge.

The physical stature of Willis also changed through theyears. In his early and middle career, he was a “JohnWayne” type of character, being a big man with a biggerpresence. He patrolled the hospital hallways trailed by his

posse of house officers. In his late years, he became a gentle

giant, a man dependent on a motorized wheelchair to moveabout, a man hindered by, but not disabled by, his multipleinfirmities. He ceased teaching at about age 88, not out of alack of enthusiasm but because his deafness prevented ad-equate communication.

Because each of us, to some degree, is a product of allthose we have encountered in life, I am certain that those ofus who were friends and colleagues of Willis Hurst willoccasionally catch ourselves “just being Willis.”

The analogy to John Wayne brings to mind a notationengraved on the Alamo that I will paraphrase as an appropriateend to this memorial: “Be silent, friends; here a hero died. Heblazed a trail for others.” And, I might add, by “just beingWillis.”

doi:10.1016/j.amjcard.2011.11.064

On Being Dr. J. Willis Hurst’sChief Resident in Medicine

D. Luke Glancy, MDa,b,*

For the 1964–1965 academic year, I had the good for-tune to be Dr. J. Willis Hurst’s eighth chief resident inmedicine at Atlanta’s Grady Memorial Hospital. Willis wasbigger than life, an extraordinary physician and teacher, andthe year was one of the best of my life. Dr. Hurst had beenappointed professor and chairman of the Department ofMedicine at Emory University and chief of the medicalservice at Grady in 1957, at age 36. In 7 years, he hadrevitalized both institutions. As Dr. Eugene Stead, one ofHurst’s predecessors at Emory, told Dr. Mark Silvermanmany years later, Hurst “gave his all to Emory in a time ofgreat need. He saved the medical school.”1 During my yearas chief resident, Dr. Hurst taught me many things, and hecontinued to teach me until his death on October 1, 2011, atthe age of 90. Described here are a few of the multitude ofthings he taught me.

Take nothing for granted: Listen respectfully to thefindings and diagnosis of the referring physician, who oftenis right, but if you accept it all as correct, you will probablyarrive at the same diagnosis, correct or not, because most usrun diagnostic algorithms the same way. Doing your ownhistory and physical and examining the pertinent studiesyourself may provide a new data set, a new algorithm, anda new diagnosis. This trust-but-verify approach is essentialfor a consultant to be effective.

High-tech is wonderful, but low-tech is often better:Technology has always driven medical advances, and wecannot do without it. Dr. Hurst often said that if Osler werealive today, he would make appropriate use of our myriad

aSection of Cardiology, Louisiana State University Health SciencesCenter; and bLouisiana State University Interim Public Hospital, NewOrleans, Louisiana. Manuscript received December 1, 2011; revised man-uscript received and accepted December 1, 2011.

*Corresponding author: Tel: 504-568-8389; fax: 504-599-0525.

E-mail address: dglanc@lsuhsc.edu (D.L. Glancy).