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Judah Folkman, MD, was an inspiration to scientists, clinicians and patients alike. Below are excerpts from the many
remembrances offered in the weeks following his death.
I spoke with Dr. Folkman about my residence choice for a combined research/clinical training program. He was in favor of that approach, telling me that nature teaches physicians things that she shares with no one else, provided you pay undivided attention, remain humble enough to learn continuously and question everything. The patients will inspire you, guide you to vital questions, sustain you through the endless search for answers and reward you indescribably should those discoveries return to the bedside and make a difference. I have never forgotten those words and I've passed them on to those I now train.
—Maria Rupnick, MD, PhD,
Children's Vascular Biology Program
In February of 2005, I "cold called" Dr. Folkman to ask for his help fighting neuro- blastoma, a rare childhood cancer that my then 4-year-old daughter had survived at age 2. He was genuinely delighted to meet a parent of a once seriously ill child who wanted to make a difference.
Two weeks later, he prepared a written proposal to research neuroblastoma biomarkers in his lab. He hypothesized that these biomarkers might one day be used to predict, and perhaps prevent, relapse. He suggested that the research would be funded from his lab, as it was "too important" to wait.
In the weeks and months that followed, Dr. Folkman invited local neuro-blastoma experts to brainstorm the research proposal with him, and ultimately to collaborate in biomarker research. He presented his proposal personally to cancer fundraising organizations and other neuroblastoma parents. He introduced us to the two young scientists who would carry out the research. Today, the research is well under way, and Dr. Folkman called upon me frequently to report interesting trends in the data.
—Michael Dodd
You arrive in the United States as a young postdoctoral fellow and learn a new workplace culture. You are troubled by the conventional wisdom that "nice guys finish last." You hear about the rat race and ruthless researchers running their labs like Roman galleons. Then, you wonder whether it is theoretically possible to "be nice yet finish first." My null hypothesis was that you can't. Over the past decade, Dr. Judah Folkman proved me wrong. He showed us that one can be nice, and finish and stay on top.
—S.H.
I never heard him give a lecture without giving total credit to whomever in his lab had been involved with a particular line of investigation—one would almost get the feeling that Dr. Folkman had played only a minor role, whereas in fact he was the genius and guiding light.
—Mark Brenner, MD, FACR,
former lab technician at Children's
Very recently, Dr. Folkman and I were preparing to host an event for 35 or so guests who were to visit our Vascular Biology Program, take a tour and hear us speak about our work. With his inimitable attention to detail, Dr. Folkman carefully prepared his presentation, checked on the venue and, of course, confirmed that the appropriate refreshments were ordered. We received our guests and made our presentations, after which he stood and answered each and every question. As was always the case when he spoke, our guests were captivated. We stood to be photographed with our visitors, escorted them to the elevators and sent them off. As we walked back to the lab, he was absolutely exuberant, telling me that this had been one of the most important lectures that he had given in years. The audience? Thirty-five third graders from a local inner-city school in Boston.
—Marsha Moses, PhD,
acting co-director, Children's Vascular Biology Program
One of the first things Judah did when I joined his lab was to drag me into our old conference room and pull out a movie projector. He told me he had a film I just had to see. It turned out to be an old, worn-out, black-and-white, 1950s science education film entitled something like The Wonders of Surface Tension. These are basically "cult films" of the scientific geek set. But I loved them, and it was a blast. The experience was like when you are a kid and you visit a friend's house and they pull out their best toys for you to play with, because they sense you will appreciate them just like they do. What Judah taught me through this and many other experiences is that the key to success in science is to keep the child alive inside of you.
When Judah first offered me a position in his group, he said, "I can't offer you a big salary or a lot of space. I can only promise you one thing, and that is creative freedom." I now make the same promise to my young people.
—Donald Ingber, MD, PhD,
Judah Folkman Professor in Vascular Biology, acting co-director, Children's Vascular Biology Program
William Wordsworth once wrote, "the best portion of a good man's life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness." But, in fact, those acts of kindness are the things I remember best about Dr. Folkman. Even though he ceased treating patients decades ago to concentrate on his research, he would stop everything when he was asked to consult on a particularly challenging case. This good and gentle man would end every day, after 10, 12 or even more hours of exhausting work, by returning at least a half-dozen calls to cancer sufferers in search of a glimmer of hope. I remember how humbly he spoke about his own achievements and how gloriously he spoke about the achievements of his colleagues.
—Nancy Linde, WGBH/NOVA
producer, Cancer Warrior
Many scientists couldn't envision the potential of anti-angiogenic therapy. It would have been tempting to give up and try something else. However, for Dr. Folkman, the controversy increased his resolve and determination. He worked relentlessly even as he grew older. We argued with him that he had done enough for the field and that he should pass the burden down to the next generation. However, he knew that anti-angiogenesis therapy would save thousands of lives and he felt that he had to work to make sure that it reached fruition. This is why he would fly to California to convince Genentech to continue working on Avastin, after their interest had waned in the early years of preclinical development. This is why he would fly to the National Cancer Institute to convince them to take up trials of angiogenesis inhibitors. It never stopped. The untold story of this man is that he gave his very life to make these therapies possible for patients.
—Robert D'Amato, MD, PhD,
Children's Vascular Biology Program
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