Heritage Snapshot: Part 106
Photo Courtesy of: Richard Schaefer
Dr. Hinshaw took them to the top of Lawton Avenue, to Dr. Peterson’s home, for a panoramic view of the San Bernardino Valley. He pointed to an orange grove [below left] and said, “That’s where the new Medical Center will be built and it will be built for you men to see the next time you come.”
By Richard Schaefer, Community Writer
April 23, 2014 at 01:57pm. Views: 16
As School of Medicine Dean David B. Hinshaw Sr., MD, prepared for the upcoming accreditation survey, the consolidation of the School of Medicine controversy intensified. “All we could do for the visit was plan as well as we could and pray that the Lord would send us the right people and contacts who would understand the circumstances,” he said. The survey went well at the beginning. The team spent two days in Los Angeles and two days in Loma Linda. Some members were extremely helpful, but one was antagonistic. In spite of the conflict, the team judged that the student physicians were being adequately served.
The antagonistic one, the secretary of the group, dropped and broke his thick glasses and became virtually helpless. Dr. John Peterson acquired lens prescriptions over the phone and had a new pair of glasses for him within 24 hours. Diplomacy undermined the tense atmosphere. The man was extremely grateful.
The team had come from Chicago and Pittsburg where it had been raining and snowing. The weather in Southern California was perfect. The January sky was brilliant. The mountains were beautiful. It almost seemed like one could reach out and touch them.
The team eventually congratulated the institution on making a clear-cut decision, recognized that there were many difficulties to overcome, but gave Dr. Hinshaw and his team an “A” for enthusiasm. They recognized that a young faculty had a good chance of making the consolidation work. They recognized that the Seventh-day Adventist Church strongly supported the move and recommended continued full accreditation. They stated that as soon as the teaching program had fully materialized on the Loma Linda campus, they would be back. In the meantime, they wanted a progress letter once a year. “Well, you couldn’t ask for more than that,” stated Dr. Hinshaw. “They left, and people in the city were horrified. How could we have conned this informed group of people?”
In the meantime, the formerly antagonistic surveyor’s supervisor on the Liaison Committee on Medical Education didn’t like the conclusions of the survey and called the 38-year old Hinshaw to Chicago. “You young whippersnapper,” he chided. “You’re not dry behind the ears. What do you think you’re doing messing around with things like this.” He gave Hinshaw a good stiff lecture. Hinshaw just let the man talk until he finally got tired and quit. But he wanted to talk with the head of the church.
Hinshaw arranged to meet Board chair Maynard V. Campbell and General Conference President Rueben R. Figuhr in the man’s office where he started lecturing the church leaders. In addition to the fact that in his opinion the men didn’t know what they were getting into, he didn’t believe in church-related institutions of higher education. In a straightforward conversation he said he would never set foot on their campus because he just couldn’t stand it. “I don’t want to have anything to do with it,” he said.
He wanted Figuhr to understand that the venture would cost a lot of money and wondered if the church backed the project. He looked at Figuhr, pointed at Hinshaw, and asked, “Are you backing him or aren’t you?”
Figuhr, a steady man, took it all in calmly and said, “Well doctor, we appreciate your counsel and remarks and I am sure there is much wisdom in what you say, but we want you to know that we are firmly behind the dean here and the church will see to it that the resources are available.”
The man said, “Well, all right, I don’t know what you’re getting into, but all right, all right, if you must.”
According to Dr. Hinshaw, Figuhr then received an incredible number of complaints about the matter. But he would just quietly respond by saying, “I’ll look into it.” “If there’s anything to this, I’ll get back to you.” “Have patience.” “We believe the Lord is going with us in this.” He knew that major developments needed time to mature.
For a number of months Hinshaw had no assurance that any of the clinical faculty in Los Angeles would move to Loma Linda. He conducted passionate, soul-searching meetings in people’s homes and restaurants. By that time a small group of faculty members were already planning the new Medical Center. Circumstances and timing constraints required Hinshaw to continue a reasonably benevolent dictatorship. “I did a lot of arbitrary things,” he acknowledged. “We made decisions rapidly. We had to.” Once the shock was over, faculty members began to respond to inquiries regarding their needs and moved to Loma Linda in stages. Hinshaw also recruited some of the younger graduates who were more receptive to the move.
He maintained an affiliation for juniors at the Los Angeles County General Hospital. By 1966, he developed a mutually beneficial affiliation with Riverside County General Hospital. The first twelve students from the upper half of the junior class went to Riverside for a year, had to overcome some prejudices, did very well, and became known as “The Twelve Apostles.” The 186-bed hospital in Loma Linda was somewhat helpful in providing clinical experience.
Hinshaw also established a pediatrics program for seniors at the large hospital at nearby March Air Force Base. As new members of the faculty arrived, in Dr. Hinshaw’s words, “…people started to come out of the woodwork and [the new clinical faculty] took shape.” It had to be a fresh start. Gradually most of the tensions dissipated. Dr. Hinshaw went to both campuses for a while, but gradually moved the dean’s office to Loma Linda.
