rutstein retirement sends shock waves throughout the commissioned

Chair’s Corner
Be a Mentor!
Fifty years
ago, on
October 13, 1960,
Bill Mazeroski,
second baseman
for the 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 the Ninth, scored
tied 9 - 9 against the steamroller from
New York – the 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 the bat at
3:36 p.m. on that warm October afternoon.
He took the first pitch for a ball.
Yankees hurler Ralph Terry next delivered
a high slider that, in the words
of one sportswriter, “didn’t slide.” Maz
jumped on the pitch and sent it sailing
over the left field wall as Yankee outfield
Berra watched in stunned disbelief.
It was and is the only Game 7 in World
Series history decided by a home run.
Many believe it remains the greatest
moment in baseball’s storied lore.
A few weeks ago I had the pleasure
of attending the dedication of the
Mazeroski statue outside PNC Park in
Pittsburgh. His statuary image joins
the likes of Hall of Famers Roberto
Clemente, Willie Stargell, and Honus
Wagner outside the ballpark, and is a
freeze-frame of his ecstatic romp around
the 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 the statue, and he
was joined by family, teammates from the
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 the 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 “the important mentors”
(his words) who guided, encouraged,
and challenged him throughout
his early days. He related that the foundation
of his accomplishments could be
traced to his father. A gifted athlete in
his own right, his coal miner father was
injured in an industrial accident and lost
part of his right foot; Lew Mazeroski’s
athletic career was over. But the father
never lost his love of the game, and
when the son inherited both that love
and skill, he cultivated his son’s talents
and encouraged him at every step. Maz
also thanked the other mentors of his
youth: high school teachers and coaches,
minor league instructors, seasoned
Pirate veterans. He said as a young man
they “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 the 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 the core, and most
important, a superb mentor. As a public
health rookie stationed on the isolated
Bay Mills Indian Community on the
southern shore of Lake Superior’s
Whitefish Bay, I picked his brain repeatedly
for his clinical, managerial and
administrative expertise, and when the
road was rocky, I had a sympathetic ear
and rock-solid support. Career counseling
was given freely, as was the art of
negotiating the PHS support services.
Professional development was strongly
encouraged and clinical excellence was
demanded. We traded fishing tips and
fly patterns; argued the college football
rankings; and discussed the current hot
topics in dentistry. Most crucial, I knew
that no matter what, CAPT Hall had
my back. From the very beginning of
my Corps career, he let me know - any
problem, at any time - he was there to
help and his door was always open.
Years later I had the 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 the way.” Indeed, from the
moment I first met him, CAPT Hall’s
actions imbued in me a sense of obligation
to return the favor he granted me,
and to actively seek out, assist, encourage,
and mentor younger officers as
they begin their 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 the 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 the words in
his retirement message to his fellow officers
“your spirit of service must remain
constant...Your unity of purpose and commitment
to the 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 the
Commissioned Corps and the nation’s
public health. COA extends our best
wishes to Admiral Rutstein and Gayle
for fair winds and following seas. We
look forward to the Admiral’s continuing
close affiliation with the Commissioned
Officers Association and Foundation.
october 2010 | Frontline
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