Caring & Curing: A History of <strong>the</strong> Indian Health Service 8 <strong>commissioned</strong> officers association
Chair’s Corner Be a Mentor! Fifty years ago, on October 13, 1960, Bill Mazeroski, second baseman for <strong>the</strong> Pittsburgh Pirates, found himself up to bat. And not just any CAPT Dan Hickey at-bat! We are talking World Series, Game 7, Bottom of <strong>the</strong> Ninth, scored tied 9 - 9 against <strong>the</strong> steamroller from New York – <strong>the</strong> invincible Yankees of Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra. Known for his impeccable defensive play, only a .260 career hitter, Maz will be forever remembered for a swing of <strong>the</strong> bat at 3:36 p.m. on that warm October afternoon. He took <strong>the</strong> first pitch for a ball. Yankees hurler Ralph Terry next delivered a high slider that, in <strong>the</strong> words of one sportswriter, “didn’t slide.” Maz jumped on <strong>the</strong> pitch and sent it sailing over <strong>the</strong> left field wall as Yankee outfield Berra watched in stunned disbelief. It was and is <strong>the</strong> only Game 7 in World Series history decided by a home run. Many believe it remains <strong>the</strong> greatest moment in baseball’s storied lore. A few weeks ago I had <strong>the</strong> pleasure of attending <strong>the</strong> dedication of <strong>the</strong> Mazeroski statue outside PNC Park in Pittsburgh. His statuary image joins <strong>the</strong> likes of Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell, and Honus Wagner outside <strong>the</strong> ballpark, and is a freeze-frame of his ecstatic romp around <strong>the</strong> bases, a moment of unabashed joy from a humble man who rarely displayed great emotion. The Pittsburgh Pirates honored Maz with a celebratory unveiling and dedication of <strong>the</strong> statue, and he was joined by family, teammates from <strong>the</strong> 1960 championship team, friends, Pirates brass, and a legion of fans. After several speeches from local dignitaries, Pirate management, and teammates, this man who shies away from <strong>the</strong> spotlight composed himself to address his appreciative audience. His words caught my ear, for his presentation could have been entitled “My Mentors” and were, I believe, applicable to our Corps. Maz expounded on how his career never would have occurred had it not been for “<strong>the</strong> important mentors” (his words) who guided, encouraged, and challenged him <strong>throughout</strong> his early days. He related that <strong>the</strong> foundation of his accomplishments could be traced to his fa<strong>the</strong>r. A gifted athlete in his own right, his coal miner fa<strong>the</strong>r was injured in an industrial accident and lost part of his right foot; Lew Mazeroski’s athletic career was over. But <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r never lost his love of <strong>the</strong> game, and when <strong>the</strong> son inherited both that love and skill, he cultivated his son’s talents and encouraged him at every step. Maz also thanked <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r mentors of his youth: high school teachers and coaches, minor league instructors, seasoned Pirate veterans. He said as a young man <strong>the</strong>y “owned” him. Interesting concept, I thought. What could be more important for our Corps than to take ownership of our Junior Officers? I recall my initial call to active duty into <strong>the</strong> National Health Service Corps. Assigned to a community health center in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in Region 5, I was fortunate to have CAPT William Hall, (Ret.) as my CO. He was an exemplary officer, outstanding role model, Corps to <strong>the</strong> core, and most important, a superb mentor. As a public health rookie stationed on <strong>the</strong> isolated Bay Mills Indian Community on <strong>the</strong> sou<strong>the</strong>rn shore of Lake Superior’s Whitefish Bay, I picked his brain repeatedly for his clinical, managerial and administrative expertise, and when <strong>the</strong> road was rocky, I had a sympa<strong>the</strong>tic ear and rock-solid support. Career counseling was given freely, as was <strong>the</strong> art of negotiating <strong>the</strong> PHS support services. Professional development was strongly encouraged and clinical excellence was demanded. We traded fishing tips and fly patterns; argued <strong>the</strong> college football rankings; and discussed <strong>the</strong> current hot topics in dentistry. Most crucial, I knew that no matter what, CAPT Hall had my back. From <strong>the</strong> very beginning of my Corps career, he let me know - any problem, at any time - he was <strong>the</strong>re to help and his door was always open. Years later I had <strong>the</strong> opportunity to share a dinner with CAPT Hall in Chicago. I mentioned his immense influence on my life, and asked him how I could thank him. “Well Dan,” he said, “maybe when you have a few more gray hairs you can help a Junior Officer along <strong>the</strong> way.” Indeed, from <strong>the</strong> moment I first met him, CAPT Hall’s actions imbued in me a sense of obligation to return <strong>the</strong> favor he granted me, and to actively seek out, assist, encourage, and mentor younger officers as <strong>the</strong>y begin <strong>the</strong>ir careers in our Public Health Service. Through my PHS years I have encountered many dedicated and inspirational senior officers who have guided me, and count many deep and fruitful friendships. As I look back, it all started with CAPT Bill Hall. The standard he held high resonates with me to this day: Be a Mentor! Retirement from pg. 1 Best, CAPT Dan Hickey USPHS, COA Board Chair his work in <strong>the</strong> White House following Hurricane Katrina, through his service as Acting Surgeon General. He is a model officer and patriot - a leader’s leader. We echo <strong>the</strong> words in his <strong>retirement</strong> message to his fellow officers “your spirit of service must remain constant...Your unity of purpose and commitment to <strong>the</strong> public trust will enable you to overcome any ephemeral difficulties this transition may impose.” The Corps will go on, no one person is indispensable. But RADM Rutstein’s departure will be a sad day for <strong>the</strong> Commissioned Corps and <strong>the</strong> nation’s public health. COA extends our best wishes to Admiral Rutstein and Gayle for fair winds and following seas. We look forward to <strong>the</strong> Admiral’s continuing close affiliation with <strong>the</strong> Commissioned Officers Association and Foundation. october 2010 | Frontline 9
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