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News Associates: Jeanne Johnson, Emily Richards
Hopkins medical students get a bird's-eye view of Baltimore, as part of a tour regularly given by 80-year-old Victor McKusick (pictured above), University Professor of Medical Genetics, who has been at Hopkins since he arrived as a student in 1943.
Mindy Farber and Rhonda Schneider Casas, members of
Homewood's first class of female residential students,
arrived on campus in September 1971. It was a turbulent
time -- when male students outnumbered females ten to one,
Vietnam War protests were raging on and off campus, and the
women's movement was in full swing. Farber, who founded and
now manages one of Maryland's top employment and labor law
practices, and Casas, a substitute teacher and former
rehabilitation counselor, forged a friendship that has
lasted throughout the decades. This month, Farber's
daughter, Emilie Adams, and Casas' daughter, Rachel, will
begin their freshman year at Hopkins. In the weeks just
before classes began, the two moms sat down to talk about
their recollections of Hopkins and what they look forward
to for their daughters.
Q: What do you remember about your first day at Hopkins in 1971?
Rhonda Casas: It was so green and pretty. I also remember going to the bathroom and there were urinals.
Mindy Farber: They had goofed and put me in Wolman Hall with graduate students. They [the graduate students] were beside themselves. They asked me if I intended to stay. They maneuvered all year to get me out.
|Classmates Mindy Farber (left) and Rhonda Schneider Casas, with daughters Emilie and Rachel.||
Q: What did the Office of Residential Life do when you
MF: (laughing) There weren't services back then. It was very European. No movies, no lecture series, no activities. You made your own fun. But it changed while we were there: 3400 On Stage, the Milton S. Eisenhower Symposium--and women created their own action. When we first got there, the only women's sport was cheerleading. If we wanted to go to the gym, men had to sign us in. All the bathrooms were unmarked. The mirrors were too high -- they weren't ready for people as short as we are. When I go [to campus] now, I'm shocked and delighted.
Q: What made you consider Hopkins in the first place?
RC: Financial aid. They made it very attractive.
MF: My brother [Barry Farber, A&S '67] had gone there, [so] my exposure to Hopkins started at age 10. We visited regularly when I was a little girl. So, when I thought of college, I thought of Hopkins. By the way, my brother's first born, Jason Farber, will also be in September's freshman class.
Q: You said the atmosphere changed within a few years?
MF: Steven Muller [became president] our sophomore year. He was very sympathetic; his wife was very active. They did start giving us money to bring in speakers. We brought in Jane Fonda--
RC: In fact, there's an old News-Letter photograph of Mindy introducing Jane Fonda on stage!
MF: She calls and says, "I'm stuck in Washington with my husband, Tom Hayden." We didn't have a decent car to pick her up in. But one of our friends, political activist Terry Meginnis, had a white Mercedes he'd inherited from his parents. It had a Stuart Yacht and Country Club sticker on it and we spent the morning scratching it off.
MF: I would bring around people to agitate and Rhonda would feed them.
RC: One day I come home and there's this man lying on our couch. "Hi," he says, "I'm Alger Hiss." I offered him graham crackers and tea.
Q: What did your male classmates think of your presence on campus?
MF: It was very difficult for the men to adjust. No one would sit near us in class.
Q: But, Rhonda, didn't you meet your future husband on campus? How did that happen if they wouldn't sit next to you?
MF: I know the answer: it was a very crowded class. [Rhonda and her husband, Luis A. Casas, A&S '73, celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary this year.]
Q: Both of your daughters applied to Hopkins early decision. Did you influence them?
RC: No. It had to be Rachel's decision. She's interested in biomedical engineering, and really, Hopkins has the best department in the country.
MF: We tried to get Emilie to see some other schools. We were going to go on a tour -- my husband had arranged a legacy tour of his own, of his alma maters: Duke and Cornell and Yale. But by the time the Yale interview was set up, she had made up her mind and we had to go by ourselves. We may be the only parents ever to arrive at a college interview without the child. It was embarrassing. But we were secretly happy she had her heart set on Hopkins.
Anne Buckingham Young, Med '73, '74 (PhD), widely regarded as the nation's top neurologist, is the recipient of the Marion Spencer Fay Award, given to a distinguished woman physician/scientist. Presented by the National Board for Women in Medicine, the award includes a $20,000 stipend to support the recipient's work.
For the past decade, Young has headed the Department of Neurology at Boston's Massachusetts General Hospital/Harvard Medical School, where she is a renowned researcher in the field of neurodegenerative diseases. She was a key member of the team that initially mapped the location of the gene for Huntington's disease. Young's primary specialty is movement disorders and diseases such as Huntington's, Parkinson's, and Tourette's syndrome. She is a leader in receptor research and has used receptor technology to clarify how various neuronal pathways in the brain interact with each other, especially in parts of the brain involved in regulating motor behavior.
Rosalie Parker, SAIS '02, one time international investment banker and 2000 U.S. amateur boxing champion, has taken aim at a new foe: mental illness. In June, Parker set off on a 4,000-mile bicycle trek. The three-month journey, from Seattle to Washington, D.C., was aimed at raising money for a program that helps people with psychiatric illnesses lead productive lives.
Parker, 27, undertook the grueling course in recognition of a cousin, Max Parker, who suffered from severe depression and psychosis that was controlled through medication and customized treatment at Waverley Place in Boston, a rehabilitation center where he now serves as a peer counselor. Waverley's treatment plan includes individualized employment assistance and skills training.
Jonathan Arden, A&S '76, chief medical examiner for the District of Columbia, found himself on the front pages of newspapers across this country in May, when he ruled that missing intern Chandra Levy had been murdered. Arden's ruling was based on the circumstances surrounding her death and the discovery of her remains, consisting only of bones, which were found in Rock Creek Park. At the time of his announcement, Arden was not able to offer a cause of death. Levy's mysterious disappearance had garnered national attention for more than a year.
As Washington, D.C.'s chief medical examiner, Arden certifies and investigates all unexpected or violent deaths, as well as those that occur without medical attention, in custody, or that pose a threat to public health.
|In Afghanistan last winter, Fisher set up a nursing training program.||
Mary Lou Fisher, Nur '96
Nursing Unveiled in Afghanistan
Pop-pop-pop! The sound was unmistakable: automatic gunfire, and quite near. Alone in her small room within a walled compound in the northern Afghanistan city of Kholm, Mary Lou Fisher shifted uncomfortably in her sleeping bag. It was January, and much of the country was still in turmoil after the military collapse of the Taliban. In Kholm, the followers of two rival warlords were engaged in a shootout that would leave a half-dozen or so young men dead.
Although her party of American and Canadian humanitarian medical personnel didn't seem to be in the line of fire, Fisher decided not to take chances. "I picked my sleeping bag up and went to sleep in the middle of the men," she says with a laugh. "The next morning we got out of town and didn't return until things had quieted down about a week later."
Fisher is a practiced hand in international relief work, having made four previous trips to Kosovo after the war there, once with the non-governmental relief organization Samaritan's Purse and later with the newly established Hopkins Center for International Emergency, Disaster and Refugee Studies (CIEDRS). When center co-director Michael VanRooyen asked her if she would be willing to join one of the first non-military medical teams to enter Afghanistan after the war, she jumped at the opportunity.
"I was part of a team of seven stationed for the first three weeks in the northern town of Mazaar-e-Sharif. Then we split, and some of us went on to Kholm, which is about an hour from the Uzbekistan border. Our mission was to start a hospital."
Never an easy task, it was especially challenging in a remote city of about 100,000 that had no electricity or running water and only marginal literacy rates. Fisher, a certified registered nurse practitioner, expected to spend some of her time treating patients, as she does three days a week in the Hopkins Hospital emergency department. Instead, the physician charged with establishing the hospital asked if she could create a training program for nurses.
Each day, her female students would arrive for class covered head-to-foot in the black veiled robes known as burkhas. Once inside, they would stash their veils in special cupboards and take their seats at desks carefully separated from the men. Later, Fisher would learn from her women students that the men informed them "they would never get husbands" as a result of their brazen behavior of enrolling in the class.
Fisher herself tried wearing a burkha on one outing when she was accompanied by two native women similarly clad. "They're very hot, they're cumbersome, and you're looking out through a mesh screen of two inches by three inches," she says. "It effectively makes you a non-entity." She was surprised to find that despite the impenetrable veil, everyone in the town knew it was her. "It was my footwear," she says, laughing. "Since the feet and hands are the only things exposed, there is considerable focus on these. Believe it or not, a lot of women are wearing fishnet hose and high heels under those burkhas. Everyone could tell it was me from my boots."
Fisher stayed four and a half months before returning home.
But she says she'd go back to Afghanistan in a heartbeat,
describing it as "an incredible privilege." The current
health statistics indicate the average life expectancy for
women in Afghanistan is 44. "They're poor, they're
war-torn. There was even an earthquake while I was there.
But the one impression I was left with was a country with a
huge amount of beauty, a huge amount of natural and human
resources. The Afghanis are a very industrious people. They
would have so much if they could quit fighting."
For anthropologist Felicity Northcott (right), guiding Hopkins students through their field work -- watching them discover "that there is a whole different world out there beyond the four walls of JHU" -- is perhaps the most fulfilling part of being a teacher. "Education is an engaged process. It's not just about telling you something," says Northcott, a senior lecturer in anthropology in the Krieger School of Arts and Sciences and assistant director of the cross-disciplinary Institute for Global Studies in Culture, Power, and History.
In May, Northcott was one of more than a dozen university faculty members presented with a university Excellence in Teaching Award. The awards, sponsored by the Johns Hopkins Alumni Association, have been made since 1992 to publicly recognize the critical importance of teaching. The Alumni Association contributes $2,000 per division. Winners receive a cash prize they can take as pay or, as Northcott has done, add to their research budget.
Northcott, who began her graduate studies at Hopkins in 1987, grew up the daughter of a Germanic languages and literature professor at the University of Chicago. "My father, in addition to being a professor, was a resident master and we lived in one of the dorm buildings. There were always students around -- in and out and at our house for dinner -- and I grew up thinking that people who were academics were a lot of fun." The experience taught her, she says, that "[learning] doesn't have to stay in the classroom -- it occurs everywhere."
The students who praise Northcott's anthropology courses -- many of them non-majors -- say she pushes them to think outside traditional disciplinary boundaries, to open themselves to new ideas. "She constantly encouraged me and challenged me to speak out, to question the arguments of students with more background in the subject," says Brandon Yoder, A&S '02, a student of political science/international relations.
Northcott's favorite course to teach is the year-long Race, Class, and Justice: Seminar Practicum in Contemporary Urban Space, in which a semester is spent studying anthropological methods, followed by a semester of field work in the Baltimore area. "This is the course that for most of my students becomes a life-altering experience," she says. "It is often their last chance to see what life is like from the perspective of the disenfranchised. For instance, one of the best papers I received recently came from a student who spent five months observing in an acupuncture clinic for recovering addicts." -- MF
The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich, A&S '79 (MS), Perennial (2001)
Erdrich's heroine is a rhapsodic failed nun who chooses Chopin and then a farmer over the cloth. After she loses her uncommon common-law husband in a Bonnie and Clyde remake she masquerades as a priest, living out her bountiful life among Indians along the Red River while writing epistles to popes. (Last Report was a finalist for the 2001 National Book Awards.) -- Lew Diuguid, SAIS '63
Read in tandem, this novel and Erdrich's (above) conjure a Hopkins school of evocative female tale telling. The pith of both is in their casts of strong or at least head-strong women. Hilderbrand's three women have gathered in Nantucket for their 20th annual midnight swim, as always bringing along champagne and utter candor instead of their suits. This time it's a rip tide. The women, and the reader, are caught up in a tangle too complex to summarize or to put aside. Suffice it to say, the plot is highly engaging. -- LD
The kickoff for a new fund-raising campaign can easily become a day about numbers. After all, numbers are the ultimate measure of success for a campaign. But when Johns Hopkins launched its $2 billion Knowledge for the World campaign on Saturday, May 4, the numbers took a back seat to the dreams they represent.
At meetings throughout the divisions and campuses, trustees and other campaign leaders heard from deans, faculty, and students about the role private philanthropy can play in making -- and keeping -- Hopkins a great global resource.
|Global Dimensions, Singular Impact: For a look at the booklet that makes the case for the Johns Hopkins Campaign, go to www.giving.jhu.edu/||
At Peabody, for instance, Director Robert Sirota discussed
with the "virtuoso volunteers" the funding of campus
renovations designed to improve campus life, visitor
enjoyment, and community ties. But most of the talk was
about students and the future. Underscoring the compelling
need for more scholarship money at Peabody, piano
professor Marian Hahn lauded the arts as "a way out of
poverty, like sports," because success in these areas
relies solely on talent, not position in society.
Krieger School of Arts and Sciences alumni and friends heard from graduating biology major Shermian Daniel, who spoke movingly about the positive impact fund raising has had on the undergraduate experience at Hopkins. She praised especially the recent additions of the Bunting-Meyerhoff Interfaith and Community Service Center, the Mattin Center for student arts and activities, the Ralph S. O'Connor Recreation Center, and the computing center in Krieger Hall. "Trust me," she said, "the students are extremely appreciative of it all."
In East Baltimore, Johns Hopkins Medicine's executive vice president Ronald R. Peterson revealed exciting long-range plans for new Hospital and research facilities critical to the institutions' mission of teaching, research, and patient care. The day also included the dedication of the Sidney Kimmel Comprehensive Cancer Center in honor of Mr. Kimmel's $150 million commitment, the largest ever received by Hopkins. The celebration included moving tributes by cancer survivors such as journalist Sam Donaldson and a colorful thank-you poster for Mr. Kimmel from a group of young cancer survivors.
Throughout the day, volunteers also gathered at the Bloomberg School of Public Health, the Whiting School of Engineering, and the Sheridan Libraries.
|Michael Bloomberg, outgoing chairman of the university Board of Trustees, greets well-wishers after a tribute to him at the campaign kickoff dinner. The new mayor of New York told the audience, "I am the one who should say thank you."||
Capping the kickoff was a gala dinner, which ended with a
salute to outgoing university trustee chairman Michael R.
Bloomberg, Engr '64, now mayor of New York. As the audience
cheered, Mr. Bloomberg took the stage.
"I am the one who should say thank you," he told the audience of 830 donors, volunteers, alumni, and other friends. "I've had six years as chairman of the board, and it has been one of the greatest opportunities anybody has ever had to make a difference. I've only gone a very small way toward what I would have liked to have done, but you've got to know this is the greatest institution in the world."
In closing, Michael Bloomberg delivered a challenge to those who follow in his footsteps at Johns Hopkins: "Please take care of my baby." -- Eileen Murphy
Bountiful choice: Executive chef Thomas B. H. Brown,
Director of Catering, shows off some highlights of the
dining services menu at Homewood, including seared salmon
and veggie wraps.
Then & Now
From the days of sumptuous and oratory-laden class banquets and uniformed wait staff in the dorm-hall dining rooms (below, ca. 1930s), to today's on-campus Taco Bell and Pizza Hut, dining at Hopkins has changed. The watchword in 2002: choice, for vegetarians, vegans, kosher, and fast food junkies alike. In 1980, there were only three spots to eat at Homewood -- Levering Market, the AMR snack bar, and the Kosher Dining Hall. Today, students have six locations to choose from, plus 82 vending machines scattered around campus. John DeHoff, A&S '35, remembers when there wasn't as much variety: "I became a vegetarian in 1934," he says, "and it wasn't much fun eating on campus." Dehoff's repasts in Levering were limited to "mashed potatoes and bread and butter." -- ER
In June, some 30 Johns Hopkins friends, alumni, and family members journeyed up the Rhine on a summer cruise accompanied by Hopkins political science professor Mark Blyth and local expert guides. They set sail at Breisach, near the French border, and arrived at Bonn a week later. Sights included the Rhine gorge, the area with the highest concentration of castles in Europe, and the famous bridge at Remagen, where the Allies crossed the Rhine in World War II. Blyth, a Scotsman and former stand-up comedian turned European expert, reports:
"On board, the Hopkins group mingled with alumni from Notre Dame, Purdue, Western Illinois, and Western Michigan universities. Needless to say, some intercollegiate rivalry broke out on the final evening when the awards dinner was held. With alumni from the other universities sending groups up to sing their fight songs, it was left to me, representing the Hopkins alumni, to explain that while Hopkins did not have a fight song (at least none that the assembled alumni knew, anyway) we had our dignity. This comment of course brought forth catcalls from the other alumni groups and I was forced to win them over by resorting to a stand-up comedy routine I hadn't used in years. Both the routine and the trip were great successes."
The trip was sponsored by the Hopkins Alumni Office. For information on upcoming trips, e-mail email@example.com or call 800-JHU-JHU1.
Idy Iglehart is among only a handful of doctors left in Baltimore who still make regular house calls. Iglehart, whose two-year term as president of the Johns Hopkins Alumni Association comes to an end in October, practices an old-fashioned brand of medicine defined by "leisurely" hour-long check-ups, a patient roster of 1,000 (as opposed to 4,000), and no dealings with HMOs.
"I wish more doctors would do it," he says, claiming that the kind of attention he pays to each of his patients actually saves money and precludes wasted time in the end. In 2000, Baltimore Magazine named him one of the city's top internists.
Some of Iglehart's oldest patients have said to him, "You know, my very first doctor was a Dr. Iglehart, and now my last doctor is a Dr. Iglehart!" The first Dr. Iglehart, a distant cousin, sometimes was paid in geese and drove to his patients' homes in a Ford Model T. The current Dr. Iglehart drives a Ford Taurus and has never been paid in geese -- "No, no bartering yet," he says.
Iglehart's family tree includes some strong Hopkins ties. His paternal grandfather, Iredell W. Iglehart, graduated from the School of Arts and Sciences in 1906. His maternal grandfather, Chuck Garland (for whom Garland Hall is named), was chairman of the university Board of Trustees. His aunt, Relie Garland Bolton, is a trustee emeritus. His wife, Virginia (Jennie) Iglehart, is one of four pediatric ICU nurses honored with a plaque at the entrance to the garden in the Hopkins School of Nursing building. And as heir to the internal medicine practice of William F. Fritz, Med '49, Iglehart finds that even many of his patients are Hopkins alumni.
Iglehart reflects on his nine-year service on the Alumni Council: "The organization's grown a lot. It started as being largely alumni-centered, but, especially under [former president] Jim Archibald, it's become more student-centered. If there is a legacy from my term," he says, "it's the international aspect. I was really impressed with the European Alumni Leadership meeting in Brussels last March. Sixty alumni were invited and 44 came, representing 16 countries. It was like running a NATO meeting. It was really exciting seeing so much enthusiasm for Johns Hopkins."
Iglehart's successor will be Joe Reynolds, current vice president of the Council. "This is a great time to serve on the Council," Reynolds says, pointing to the spring launch of a $2 billion university fundraising campaign, increased emphasis on student concerns, and the move to include more international alumni in Council events and decision-making. "Idy has initiated the European contacts and established a base for moving that forward. It's the right move for the university and it ties into the campaign's outlook for Hopkins as a worldwide leader."
Reynolds is co-founder and now chairman emeritus of Forensic Technologies Inc. (FTI Consulting), a publicly traded consulting company with $164 million in sales last year. In 1975, Reynolds coined the phrase "forensic engineering."
In those early days, when nobody had heard of forensic engineering, Reynolds had to say to people, "Do you watch 'Quincy'? Well, we do the same thing, but not with bodies, with technology."
Hired by civil and criminal litigants, FTI Consulting supplies technical research and advice pre-trial, then expert testimony during trial. The firm specializes in translating complicated scientific evidence -- often with the help of sophisticated visual aids -- into something a jury can understand.
The firm has grown to one employing some 600 people -- scientists, graphic designers, artists, psychologists, jury experts, lawyers, and accountants. "We have a little bit of Sherlock Holmes, Clarence Darrow, the art and the theater of courtroom drama," Reynolds says.
As Reynolds prepared to assume the presidency of the Alumni Council this summer, he said, "My tenure on the Council has seen the inauguration of the website. But there's still a lot to be done. We will work to be more in touch with the rest of the alums about what the Council is doing. Issues of communications will be very high on our list." --ER
In the fall of 1975, "gonzo" journalist Hunter S. Thompson "arrived at the Johns Hopkins University 15 minutes early - - one of the least outrageous acts of the afternoon -- and promptly sent out for a fifth of Wild Turkey and a six pack," according to Baltimore Sun reports. Thompson went on to deliver a rambling "non-speech" in which he espoused his views on motorcycle gangs, politics, and objective vs. subjective journalism, contending that the only objective version of reality comes from security cameras in grocery stores, stock quotations, and "maybe" box scores.
That same fall, newscaster David Brinkley, then sporting a full head of dark, slicked-back hair, cast off his usual veil of journalistic objectivity and openly expressed very critical views of the federal government.
|Posters each year advertise the MSE Symposiums' hot- button issues.||
Not every Milton S.
Eisenhower Symposium has been as colorful as the one in
1975 -- centered on the theme "The Pen as the Sword" -- but
since the symposium's inception, lightning rod moments and
spirited debate have characterized the undergraduate-run
lecture series, which each fall brings to the Homewood
campus a wide variety of experts on important national
Over the years, the speakers have been a wildly disparate bunch: Rubin "Hurricane" Carter, Buckminster Fuller, Spike Lee, Jerry Springer, former Chief Justice Earl Warren, Dr. Ruth, Patrick Buchanan, John Waters, Jesse Jackson, Kurt Vonnegut, Camille Paglia, Jean Piaget, and Oliver North, as well as prominent figures with lesser known names.
The MSE Symposium was born in an era of inflamed passions, fear, and uncertainty: Vietnam War controversies, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, race riots, and conspiracy theories all contributed to a charged atmosphere. The symposium was the brainchild of William Reinsch, A&S '68, SAIS '69, the 1967 Student Council president who is now president of the National Foreign Trade Council in Washington, D.C.
Reinsch says the symposium was envisioned as "an intellectual pursuit on an intellectual campus," as well as a "living memorial" to outgoing university president Milton S. Eisenhower. Reinsch describes Eisenhower as an ardent devotee of public discourse who frequently invited students to his home and was always interested in a lively discussion. "Eisenhower had a very distinguished presence, and the students had enormous respect for him," says Reinsch. "It seemed like a fitting way to honor him with something living and breathing rather than a plaque."
The first lecture in 1967 was run "on a wing and a prayer," says then-chair Mark Steinberg, A&S '68, now a psychotherapist in Chicago. The speaker, future-senator Patrick Moynihan, who spoke on urban affairs, arrived with little fanfare. "He came as a favor to a professor," recalls Steinberg, "and I picked him up at the airport in my 1964 Mustang."
Today, two undergraduate co-chairs each year spearhead an extensive fund-raising campaign that involves grant writing and soliciting corporations to fund a $90,000 budget (which includes a $35,000 university block grant). With the money in hand, the co-chairs and their student committee come up with a "wish list" of potential speakers -- based around a Student-Council-approved theme -- then set out to recruit them. Themes have included "Without a Voice: Dilemmas of Growing Up in America," and "Who Am I? The Changing Role of Sexuality in America" (1994). Each symposium -- free to the public -- typically features eight or nine speakers, spread out over the fall semester, as well as forums, workshops, and even film festivals.
Attendance fluctuates, but it is not uncommon for controversial or well-known speakers -- like cast members from television's "ER" (2000) -- to pack Shriver Auditorium with students, reporters, and community members.
The choice of speakers doesn't please everyone. When NRA president Charlton Heston's name appeared on the roster in 2001, for instance, student protests ensued. (He later cancelled due to a film conflict.) "But the purpose is to spark debate and look at a wide variety of issues," says Meera Popat, who along with Dennis Boothe co-chairs the 2002 symposium on national identity. "Sometimes we might upset some organization or group, but you have to learn to deal with it, not choose sides, be independent, and show different viewpoints." --Jeanne Johnson
You can stay in touch with Johns Hopkins no matter where you live. To learn more about regional alumni chapter activities, visit www.alumni.jhu.edu/.
NEW YORK, Long Island
Richard Ben Cramer, A&S '71, is a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, author, and documentary writer. During the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, he walked alone through no-man's land to report on the fighters caught in that war. His books include What It Takes, about the 1988 presidential candidates, and Joe DiMaggio: The Hero's Life.
Woodrow Wilson Award
Linda Rosenstock, Med '77, SPH '77, dean of the UCLA School of Public Health, was director of the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health from 1994 through 2000. She received both the Presidential Meritorious Rank Award for Senior Executive Service (1998) and the Presidential Distinguished Executive Rank Award (2000).
Simeon Margolis, A&S '53, Med '57, a star student, varsity athlete, and long-time faculty member, has served Hopkins with untiring devotion. He has been an active member of the Alumni Council and its Executive Committee, and has traveled around the country entrancing alumni groups with his medical expertise and general insights.
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