A prescription for good deeds
Dr. Bernard Lown stands in the hallway of the Chestnut Hill home that he and his wife, Louise, have lived in for the past five decades. Filled with framed thank-you notes and photographs, Lown proudly says he’s accumulated good deeds rather than endless objects.
"To me the profound moral purpose in life is that when you leave it, you've left the world a tiny bit better," said Lown.
Over his 87 years Lown, a cardiologist and professor emeritus at Harvard Medical School, has won the Nobel Peace Prize; developed the heart defibrillator; cofounded International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War; created SATELLIFE, the first nonprofit organization to use satellite technology in developing third-world countries, and raised three children with his wife.
He also founded ProCor, an international Internet forum to address the epidemic of cardiovascular disease in developing countries; founded Physicians for Social Responsibility; and published "The Lost Art of Healing," which urges doctors to spend time with patients to unearth underlying issues. He has won too many awards and written too many papers to begin to list. Lown's latest book, out this month, is "Prescription for Survival: A Doctor's Journey to End Nuclear Madness."
Nassib Chamoun, a former student of Lown and the founder of
"This applies equally to social issues, medical problems, and global security," said Chamoun. "He is relentless in his drive to acquire knowledge and educate himself about the issues he advocates for."
Among the photos that line the hallway in Lown's home is one of Lown and the late Raisa Gorbachev taken in Moscow during a visit. Lown cringes when he recalls the social faux pas that he committed.
Soon after he returned home from the Soviet Union a photograph arrived signed "My good wishes to you Dr. Lown for all of the noble things that you are doing." It was signed "Raisa."
"I thought some buffoon in Moscow took the photo, faked her signature, and sent it out," said Lown. "Why would the first lady [take the time] do this for me?"
Six months later Mikhail Gorbachev invited Lown to be one of his guests during a meeting with President Regan in the Soviet Union.
Out of the roughly 75 guests that were present, Lown was seated with Raisa.
"The first thing she said to me was, 'Did you receive the photograph?' "
"I blushed, and stuttered, and said 'yes,' to which she replied, 'How come you didn't acknowledge it? I was so embarrassed that I wanted to sink through the ground. How could I have been so uncivil?"
Lown's tale began in Utena, Lithuania, where he was born in 1921. Life wasn't easy living under Communist rule. "We didn't run, but we lived in terror," said Lown. "We were surrounded by a very anti-Semitic population." Lown said he remembers being called a Jewish pig at the age of 9, a taunt that ended in a grapple that left Lown with stitches in his head.
As the Nazis gained power in Germany and it became clear that all of Europe was in danger, Lown said his father had the good sense to get them out. His father had a brother who lived in Brookline, but the entire family was not allowed to leave. Lown came to the United States in 1935 with his father and his brother. He was 13.
"It was horrible," said Lown. "I was old enough to know that as I waved goodbye to my mother, I would probably never see her again."
Lown's mother and sister did make it to the United States the following year. They all settled in Lewiston, Maine.
Being thrust into speaking English in middle school was difficult, and although Lown was bright, his grades suffered because of the language barrier. By high school he was fluent and was accepted into Johns Hopkins Medical School. It was there that Lown said he was first confronted with racism in America and began his fight for equality.
"I get to Hopkins, what do I see? White wards, black wards; white fountains, black fountains; white toilets, black toilets," said Lown. "No black doctors or medical students, 10 percent female and the same number of Jews. You have this dream of a free country with the Statue of Liberty greeting you, and suddenly you're confronted with such racism."
While at Johns Hopkins, Lown worked in the blood bank. A plum job, he said, as he was given room and board, a small salary, saw all of the hot cases, and got to know the house staff and nurses. But Lown was outraged that the blood was segregated: colored blood was marked with a "C" and white blood, with a "W."
"We never had enough white blood, but there was a surplus of colored blood," said Lown. "So I bought a crayon and whenever they needed blood in an emergency I made a mirror image of the C that looked like a W."
He was caught and thrown out of medical school. But a group of doctors called the American Medical Student Association contacted the White House and threatened to go on strike unless Lown's punishment was reversed.
"They feared that word would get out that Johns Hopkins was a racist hospital and I was readmitted."
By 1955, Lown was an assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School, and the following year became the director of the Samuel A. Levine Cardiovascular Research Laboratory.
Two years later, while Lown was looking for research funding, the Russians launched Sputnik.
"Americans were shocked," said Lown. "So I figured that if I persuaded the Russians to take interest in my research, the Americans would come through and pour in money." The only problem was he didn't know any Russians.
In 1961, Lown introduced the idea of using direct current electric shock for normalizing the errant rhythms of the dying heart. The device used to administer the current, the defibrillator, is now employed worldwide.
The same year a colleague urged Lown to attend a lecture on nuclear war given by Philip Noel Baker who had just been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Lown was so affected that he founded Physicians for Social Responsibility in his Newton home.
"The time span for response [for a nuclear holocaust] is reduced to 25 minutes," said Lown. "You can't imagine how many times we've come close to a nuclear disaster, where our planes were already in the air with bomb loads flying through Moscow.
Five years later, still looking for research funding, Lown attended the World Congress of Cardiology in New Delhi and met a Russian physician by the name of Evgeni Chazov in an elevator. The two became friends and 1981 they founded International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War. Four years later they accepted the Nobel Peace Prize.
"Fundamentally what's eating us up is the fact that we've lost the purpose of what life is," said Lown. "Life is not possessing, but being."
Dr. Bernard Lown will be giving a free lecture on the threat of nuclear proliferation Wednesday at 7 p.m. at the Newton Free Library.
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