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IN MEMORIAM |
1 President, International Society for Experimental Hematology Visiting Professor in Oncology The Johns Hopkins Oncology Center Baltimore, Maryland
2 Arlington Cancer Center Arlington, Texas
3 Medical College of Wisconsin Milwaukee, Wisconsin
4 Phoenix, Maryland
5 Executive Editor
He was well known, respected, and most importantly, admired by all hematologists and oncologists throughout the world. Others, who knew George better than I, will describe at length his career, his research, his many successes in pioneering bone marrow transplantation, and his uncommonly warm heart and spirit. George Santos inspired many careers, at times knowingly, but often he seemed unaware of the crowd following his tracks. We, the crowd, were continually discussing his ideas, his results, his thoughts; he was a star.
George Santos will be remembered for his wonderful ability to blend wisdom and logic, offering insights to seemingly difficult problems. At any meeting, anywhere in the world, during a formal seminar or an informal brainstorming exercise, whether reviewing data or planning therapies of the future, George would often come to the rescue of a fatigued group, or a group who lost confidence, or one that had lost sight of its goals. He would quietly stand up, walk to the microphone, and offer a few "simple" words that somehow none of us could find. His gift was the ability to address the most perplexing questions. He would start with a soft and deep, "I understand," and would go on to explain the hidden relevance of the question—sometimes answering it in the process, sometimes recognizing the courageous one who first raised it, and other times offering the next question to ask. So often his comments were followed by the lingering silence of appraisal from the audience. George's "Theory of Relativity" was that real science must be made easy to understand and explain, maybe developed during his training in engineering at MIT. And maybe we should remember this unique physician training the next time we get results from the "cell engineering lab."
What I will remember George for is far more personal. George was a figure
in my career from its very beginning. We first met during my training in stem cell cryopreservation with R.G. Graw at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in 1974-75. He invited me to present the NIH data at Johns Hopkins and offered me the chance to stay and work with him. I will remember him as the only investigator who was able to appreciate both allogeneic and autologous (only with graft-purging) transplantation during a time when "autografting" was considered heresy, at least in France. He helped me, and several other colleagues, keep the faith in spite of the many challenges and the skeptics. I will remember during the 1982 meeting of the International Society for Experimental Hematology (he was one of the Society's founders), a very special and valuable gift that he gave me; a vial of 4HC. I will remember that his vial of drug was used to treat the first non-Hodgkin's lymphoma patient in Europe, currently a long-term survivor. I will remember my visit with him in Hilton Head Island, SC. Already ill, I shared some precious time with George and his wife, Carole, in their retirement paradise. I will remember his presence and support during my presentation of the last prestigious "George Santos" lecture during his lifetime, an unmatched honor.
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Norbert Claude Gorin
President, International Society for Experimental Hematology
Visiting Professor in Oncology
The Johns Hopkins Oncology Center
Baltimore, Maryland
With great sadness we write this memorial tribute to George on the occasion of his passing on January 21, 2001. We knew him as a great professional and a very fine human being for over three decades.
After George's graduation from MIT and a relatively short career in the U.S. Navy, it was medicine that became his intellectual and emotional focus. With his background in physics, it was no surprise that he chose a path in medicine where he could combine research and clinical medicine in order to bring the latest developments in the laboratory to the patient, and that hematopoiesis and transplantation of hematopoietic cells became his field in the sixties. On the basis of his research, he established the bone marrow transplant program in Johns Hopkins in the early seventies and George and his team became key players in the development of the art and science of bone marrow transplantation. His contributions, together with his team, were milestones in the field. They included the use of high-dose cyclophosphamide in the transplant conditioning regimen and the first regimen without total body irradiation regimen (busulphan and cyclophosphamide). His group was one of the first to introduce cyclosporine as prophylaxis of graft-versus-host disease after transplantation and the use of acyclovir to prophylax against herpesviruses. He explored the use of pharmacological purging methodologies in autologous bone marrow transplantation (BMT).
George was a leader in many of the professional societies associated with BMT. He was one of the founders of the International Society of Experimental Hematology and we will never forget the first meeting held in one of the theaters in the middle of Paris in 1986 with Don Thomas, George Mathé, Dirk van Bekkum, Rainer Storb and thirty others.
When he retired in 1995, the bone marrow transplant unit in Johns Hopkins was among the leading programs in the world. He mentored many of the leaders in the field and on retiring he passed the torch to Dr. Rick Jones, who is keeping his legacy alive by continuing and renewing the program. His patients loved him because of his compassion and his positive and innovative thinking. To his many friends and colleagues he will be remembered most for his generosity, his integrity, his persisting intellectual curiosity, and his extraordinary ability to translate laboratory findings to the clinic. He was a wise counselor and good friend to all his colleagues in the field he helped to create.
Thank you for what you did for medicine. It was a great journey!
Karel A. Dicke William H. Burns
Arlington Cancer Center Medical College of Wisconsin
Arlington, Texas Milwaukee, Wisconsin
George Santos, Jr. delivered the following eulogy on behalf of his sisters, Susan, Kelly, and Amy at their father's Memorial Service held on Hilton Head Island, January 27, 2001.
Thank you for the opportunity to say a few words. It is truly an honor to be able to do so. You know I realize there is great sadness at my father's passing, but if you stand back and think about his life, this is a time that we should celebrate because not only did we get to peek into his life but we played major parts in it. And what a remarkable life it was. His colleagues could speak volumes about his significant accomplishments in the medical arena, but I hope you will indulge me as I attempt to give a flavor for who he was as a father and a friend.
He taught my sisters and me so many lessons as we watched him live his life. This was a focused man, but sometimes he wasn't very peripheral while in one of his "zones." I remember a particular episode that was representative of this focus. On a fishing trip with him, my sister Kelly became extremely seasick, and for those of you who have been there you know that it is no fun. After some pleading that "it would soon get better" he realized he had no choice but to head back to shore as Kelly was now turning a pale shade of green. Approximately 60 seconds after reaching the shore, Kelly conveyed that she was feeling better, to which my father replied, "Good, let's go back out and get some fish!" It wasn't that he didn't care about Kelly; he just had a focus.
On fishing and camping trips he was patient and instilled in us a respect and love for nature that we carry with us to this day. I will always remember with great joy our trips to the Susquehanna flats to catch shad, crabs, rockfish, or anything else we could persuade into our boat; beautiful sunlit days off the coast of Hatteras where we would catch literally hundreds of dolphins (mahi-mahi); fishing trips to Canada where you could reach up and pick the stars from the sky as he shared the story of Orion's belt or some other constellation; chasing the seagulls on the Chesapeake Bay because they were following the bait fish, and if you found them you would find the bluefish and the fight would be on; chasing other dolphins along the tributaries that surround Hilton Head as his grandchildren squealed with delight. With him, it was always a wonderful learning experience. My sisters, Susan, Kelly, Amy, and I remember fondly the Audubon book with vinyl records that he would play so we would recognize the difference between the sounds of a blue jay or a Baltimore oriole.
Yes, he was a real outdoorsman, but not always at one with nature. I remember camping in a laurel and rhododendron forest in Montreat, North Carolina, and there was a rushing stream nearby. He almost had a heart attack trying to get the camper up quickly as he thought the stream was a fast approaching thunderstorm ... Me dropping his fishing pole in the lake and him diving in, fully clothed, to retrieve it. ... Our terrier, Laddy, catching his ear in one of Dad's fishing lures and then sprinting around the campsite a bloody mess. In the end, Dad's sense of humor would carry him through.
He was an honest and honorable man—sometimes to a fault. One time while rushing down to Hopkins to retrieve some papers he was pulled over for speeding. The officer, realizing Dad was a physician, tried to show him the love. "Dr. Santos," he said, "you must have been rushing to the bed of a very sick patient, so I'll just give you a warning." To which Dad replied: "No, I was just going to get some paperwork." The officer said, "No—(wink, wink)—someone must be really sick," as he tried and tried to give him a break. But Dad insisted it was paperwork. When it came time to go before the judge, he, too, attempted to persuade Dad that his job and responsibility must have demanded that he get to the hospital quickly. Still, Dad persisted in his honesty. But the judge gave him a hall pass anyway, perhaps out of some sort of pity.
My father taught us all about determination. The word "genius" has been used to describe my father but that shouldn't fool anyone into thinking that it all came easy to him. His struggles with anatomy and neural anatomy at MIT are legendary. My mother tells of praying the rosary that he would pass his exams in these difficult subjects. These stories were lessons from him to us. He would say, "You may not always be the best at the things that challenge you, but never look in the mirror without being able to say that you had given it your best."
He was so unselfish. In 1981 we were on a fishing boat approximately two hours off the shores of Hatteras, North Carolina when he proceeded to have a mini-stroke. As my sister Amy and I looked over at his half limp face, he had the presence of mind to take his own pulse and take stock of the situation. I soon realized that he had had warning signs a week before but didn't want to postpone the trip and disappoint us. His unselfishness was probably coupled with a dose of denial, but he always wanted to make us happy. As they were rolling him into what would be nine hours of surgery to repair his temporal artery, he was discussing where in our house we could construct a dark room to accommodate my sister's love of photography. Nine hours later, as he was coming around again, his first words to my mother were, "Joanne, we've got to get on with that dark room for Susan!" He was always unselfish.
Dad was a fierce competitor. This was never more evident to me than at Memorial Stadium in my youth as our beloved Colts would take on the evil Green Bay Packers, San Francisco 49ers, Los Angeles Rams, and Chicago Bears. To this day I have a framed picture of me on the top of the dugout at Memorial Stadium as Johnny Unitas left the field as a Colt for the very last time. Whenever I look up at the picture I don't think of the Colts, but of incredibly special times that a son spent with his father.
He always had a sense of humor and carried it with him to the very end. It was not lost on those of us who knew him that this die-hard Democrat had to watch President Bush's inauguration the day before he passed and that that may have contributed to him saying, "I've had enough."
In closing, I really feel sympathy and sadness for those who lose loved ones suddenly. So many things are left unsaid. The tremendous efforts of Dr. Dicke and his staff gave Dad another year beyond what the "experts" had given him, and what a remarkable year it was. His peers in the medical community were able to express their love and gratitude to him. We were able to share our love and respect for him, and he was able to do the same for us.
We had a remarkable Christmas in Hilton Head where he could drink in his kids and grandkids, and they him. In his final days in Arlington, Bill Burns, a trusted confidante and teammate, but mostly a true friend, came to spend time with him. This meant so much to my father. What a blessing that Bill was there. He was able to share with Dad the news of a new medicine that was being developed that could have a dramatic impact on bone marrow treatments, and immediately Dad was engaged and you could just feel the energy. Bill really pumped him up!
The way Dad handled the final chapter of his life was representative of the way he lived it ... with class, courage and, above all, love for others. And so the fish are safer, his friends and colleagues are sadder, but he always taught us to leave a place better than the way we found it. And we can all be encouraged that he did just that.
George Santos, Jr.
Phoenix, Maryland
| Editor's Note George Santos was a long-standing member of the editorial board of STEM CELLS. And for the past six years, he was an active member of the Comité des Sage that provides advice to the editorial boards of STEM CELLS and The Oncologist. George was a consummate editor and wise advisor who always focused attention on complete documentation and on clear, concise expression. Those of us who were graced by his friendship have special memories that are now held even more precious. Our friendship spanned more than two decades and had, as a backdrop, cities around the globe. The sight of George in a far-off land was warmly welcomed not only by Ann and me, but also by our children whom he went out of his way to befriend. We are far, far better off for having known him... and we who loved him are diminished by his death. "He will not forget your work and the love you have shown." —Hebrews 6:10 Martin J. Murphy, Jr. Executive Editor
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