One of Dr. Halstead’s early actions was to encourage CME to employ Milton Murray for a new public relations position. He would “put the new School in the public eye and make it easier for the School to attract funding for research. After two years, Murray not only launched an outstanding career, but started institutional public relations and philanthropic fundraising for the Seventh-day Adventist church at large.
The School of Tropical and Preventive Medicine (STPM) eventually became Loma Linda University School of Public Health. In writing its history, Paul William Dysinger, MD, MPH, included Halstead’s contributions to the STPM, the Seventh-day Adventist Church, and the United States military:
“After two years of unsuccessful attempts to obtain research money, Halstead confronted the CME administration and was shocked to learn there had never been any effort to establish research contacts in Washington, DC. Leaders had decided that research was a luxury that CME could not afford. Forthwith, Halstead hastened on to prepare his own first grant application—for the investigation of poisonous and venomous fishes of the Central and South Pacific. He submitted his proposal to the National Institutes of Health (NIH)—which promptly turned it down. He finally decided if he was ever going to get his fish project off dead center he would have to go to Washington, DC, himself.
“Halstead’s debut in Washington, DC took place in early 1950. He managed face-to-face encounters with NIH (which had the money) and the Navy (which had the ships and logistical support he needed). His first objective was the Office of Naval Research (ONR) where he met with Dr. John Field. He found him to be a sympathetic and patient listener who quickly grasped the importance of the deadly neuro-toxins of marine animals such as the puffer fish.
“Field urged Halstead to reapply to NIH and referred him to Dr. Ernest M. Allen. In those days, NIH was a single Institute, and business was conducted more on a personal basis than it is today. Allen was also congenial. ‘I explained that CME had never had an NIH research grant,’ reported Halstead, ‘and knew little about research. Moreover, the STPM was a new School without any money. Furthermore, I was starting to work in a new discipline that did not exist in which I was attempting to plow new ground.’ Allen looked at Halstead in disbelief, but he listened. ‘Before I left, Allen introduced me to Dr. David E. Price, and I was encouraged to resubmit my grant application. This I did on my return to Loma Linda. On June 17, 1950, I received a letter from Price that my NIH grant had been approved. On September 5, I received a letter from Field that my ONR contract had also been approved… Eureka! I was now in the poisonous fish business.’
“A short time later, Halstead visited the Walter Reed Army Medical Center with the hope of obtaining a research contract for the STPM. When the Commandant was told that the STPM was a part of the College of Medical Evangelists, one of the largest medical schools in the western USA, a startled look crossed his face. ‘I have never heard of the place,’ he replied curtly.
“Halstead politely suggested that if he should visit CME, he would be pleasantly surprised. A few months later, the Commandant and several of his scientists did come to Loma Linda and were, indeed, pleasantly surprised. As they saw the facilities and recognized the gold mine CME had in its relation with the SDA church and its worldwide medical mission program, they immediately became favorable to establishing relationships.
“This visit resulted in several research contracts with the Army…. An interesting sidelight is that ten years later (1961) Brigadier General Floyd Wergeland (CME Class of 1932) was appointed Commandant of the Walter Reed Army Medical Center.
Halstead’s lifetime friend, Lawrence D. Longo, MD, remembered as a student physician sitting on the floor in Bruce’s STPM office to study. “This was a glorious place to be, as it was filled with books and bottles with biological specimens of all sorts. Also, it was relatively quiet, except every so often when Bruce, who, in one of his bright, flowery Hawaiian shirts, would be working with his microscope, would yell out, ‘Hey, look at this!’ Regardless of the circumstances or time of day or evening, Bruce was full of enthusiasm and passion. The only problem with being in Bruce’s company, was that every few days he would bug me with, ’Well Longo, what are you going to contribute to life?’”
(Dr. Longo eventually became a Distinguished Professor of Physiology and of Obstetrics and Gynecology. As one of only about 10 distinguished professors in the more than 100 year history of the School of Medicine, Longo and his colleagues brought more than $135 million into Loma Linda University, where he founded and directed Loma Linda University’s highly regarded Center for Perinatal Biology a multi-disciplinary group devoted to investigating the biology of the developing infant. Here he explored various aspects of the dynamics and regulation of respiratory gas exchange in the placenta and oxygenation of the fetus. In conjunction with these studies, Dr. Longo wrote more than 200 scientific papers and a number of governmental reports, including the section in several editions of the US Surgeon General’s Report on smoking and health hazards to the mother and fetus. He also played a key role in testifying in Congress for legislation that required warning labels on cigarette packages regarding the hazards of smoking in relation to heart disease, lung disease, and problems for the pregnant woman and her fetus. He also served on a scientific advisory panel of the Environmental Protection Agency that led to enactment of the Clean Air Act.)