End Notes
An Average Guy
A father’s admonition about the importance of hard work seems tedious at first, then rings true.
By Harrison H. Farley, M.D.
My father had many fine qualities. One of them was a penchant for telling the truth, no matter the consequences. That quality was brought home when he drove me to the Pennsylvania Railroad Station in St. Louis in September of 1950 to send me off to New York City for my first year of medical school at Cornell University. It was an exciting day for me.
Standing alongside that great train The Spirit of St. Louis with a large trunk and wearing a new suit and my first pair of Florsheim shoes, I was on top of the world. Perhaps I was a wee bit overconfident, but my premed grades at Westminster College had been outstanding, and I knew I was ready for the big time.
My father, not one to show emotion, shook my hand with genuine affection, then looked at me closely and said, “Now Haas, your work at Westminster was great, and I’m proud of you, but I want you to know what you’re getting into. You’re butter and eggs, just an average guy. You have an excellent record, but you’re going into a different situation. Many of your classmates are going to be a good deal smarter than you, and I don’t want you to get discouraged.
“Great things can be achieved by average people who work hard,” he continued. “And remember this, highly intelligent people are often brittle. They crack under strain. You, on the other hand, by keeping your nose to the grindstone, will be one of the last men standing.”
Thanks, I thought at the time, for the words of wisdom.
But I pondered those words the first day of school as I sat in the theater of our anatomy class. I already had met some outstanding students from eastern schools and was mightily impressed by their quick and erudite answers to our professor’s introductory questions.
Then we walked into the dissection room. I was carrying my small dissection kit with its scissors, pick up, and probe when I noted that across the aisle from my lab partner and me, the valedictorian of Columbia University was setting out a glistening stainless steel case containing a full set of surgical instruments for all to see and marvel at.
When we pulled back the sheet covering our cadaver, I thought my partner was going to faint, and I was feeling very much the small-town boy who was in over his head. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the valedictorian close his instrument case and walk out of the room—never to return. I buckled down and got to work.
I have no qualms sharing this story, for the valedictorian went on to become an executive for NBC television. I, on the other hand, an average guy, had no trouble getting through medical school and residency and went on to become a passable general surgeon with a penchant for telling the truth. MM
Harrison Farley is a retired surgeon who lives in St. Paul.