WZ 100 R288C 18*-. ........................................ camAanjt an ctylic/ay eve-ntna Cstffiiii %8m, #^ 4even' o- 'ciac/p at me " -gf f. C/ric/o^at ' ' fa -meet QLh 3kaddeusi j/Z. Steamy. in dene I #/ fne t&eventteM CZ/fnntvet /e/.j. Veuve Clicquot. < J/t*7rf Apoll i n ari s . The Toasts The Toasts Dr. P. S. Conner Wc\xw-£tnxt ann afett, Dr. N. P. Dandridge ft&Bpmtw, - - Dr. T. A. Reamy Qty? ($\b (Suard. - Dr. James T. Whittaker A JIumrcr ttt (Sgwwtogg, Dr. L. S. McMurtry A 3FrmtO, - Rev. David H. Moore, D. D. An (J&bairtrtrtatt, Dr. William H. Taylor A Mtmbtv af % Ara&etmj, Dr. E. W. Mitchell A0 a ©rarif^r, - - Dr. E. G. Zinke 3hi JlrnfrsBumal iCtfr, Dr. Joseph Mathews, Louisville, Ky. President of the American Medical Association. Ab a HittttfBB in Olaurt Judge David Davis, Cincinnati, Common Pleas Court. Ab a 3tettn nf (§ur louratumal itotereBiB, Professor Philip V. N. Myers, University of Cincinnati. P. S. Conner, M. D. \ Introduction By the Toastmaster, Dr. P. S. Conner SELDOM does it happen that a doctor is permitted to reach his three-score years and ten,—the cares and anxieties of life, the wear and tear of professional work, the exposure necessarily incident to his condition, all these com- bining together to make it a fact that in the great majority of instances those who enter upon the profession of medicine pass to their long home before the three-score years are reached. When- ever, then, it happens that the three-score and ten years are reached, it is meet, right, and our bounden duty that due recognition should be had thereof—it matters not where the man may be, the circumstances under which he may be placed, or the surroundings that are his. Still more is it so when it happens, as it does to-night, that we are permitted to do honor to our friend and our colleague, who has battled these many years in the storm and in the sunshine, who has done his work under many conditions, who has not only been a faithful practitioner and the friend of the sick, but the teacher of those who were to be lights of the world; who has done for himself 31 much that was good, but who has done vastly more for the people about him. [Applause.] Nothing in life could give me greater pleasure than to extend my congratulations and my heartiest good wishes to my good friend upon my right—my friend and my colleague for more than a quarter of a century, whom I have known in sorrow and in joy, in labor and in rest, and whom I have honored as I have honored few men. And I am sure I voice the sentiment of every man who knows him or who knows of his work when I say that no honor that we can bestow upon him is more than he deserves. More than that, he deserves far more than it is possible for us to express. [Applause.] The latter part of his life, and a long part of his life, has been in our midst. He has walked up and down our streets known of all. He has been the aid, and the counselor, and the assistant, and the benefactor over and over again ; and now, in the providence of God, it has been permitted to him to live through these many years, and not only to live through them, but to come to the end of the psalmist's period in full manhood and full strength, in such vigor of mind and body as rarely falls to the lot of man. And now that this is done, it is with extreme pleasure that we, his friends and students, beg him to accept our best wishes that he may be long spared to the world where he has been, and where he will be, so useful; and when the end comes to him, as it must 32 come to us all, he will receive, we know, the benediction of those left behind, and the welcome, "Well done, good and faithful servant." [Ap- plause.] I am requested to read certain letters before entering upon the program of the evening. (See Page J 33 for letters.) 33 Dr. Conner's Introduction of Dr. N. P. Dandridge I AM sure, and I speak it with all due rev- erence, that if the psalmist had had a view in the far distant future of the cheery face and the strong arm of my good friend, and our good friend, upon my right, he would hardly have felt like saying that the term of life was but three- score years and ten, for the promised increase was to be an increase of weakness and not of strength. But if we may read aright the signs of the times, knowing so well that in these latter days man lives better, and therefore lives longer, we may cer- tainly conclude that it will be the good fortune of some of us here present to meet our friend ten years hence to congratulate him upon the eighty full years of life. But that we may be able to mark this day especially with a white stone, I desire to ask one who is so competent in speaking, so cultivated in manner, so delightful a companion, so warm a friend, to address us. I will ask that Dr. Dan- dridge speak to us on the "Three-Score and Ten," not that he himself has reached that and can speak of it from experience, but that he is rapidly approaching it, like some of the rest, and is preparing himself therefor. 35 N. P. Dandridge, M. D. Response of Dr. N. P. Dandridge C^tee^cote and €en WE have come together to-night to show our respect and affection for one who has reached his three-score years and ten—the allotted span of human life—and yet whose eye is still undimmed, and whose hand still responds to friendship's grasp, and whose heart quickens and throbs with youthful fervor for every kindly human impulse. The passing years sit lightly and gracefully upon him, his figure unbent, his hand steady and true, his step firm and un- shaken ; and now at the end of the allotted span he still stands before us, facile princeps, in all that appertains to intellectual and physical and moral strength. To still be young in thought, and sympathy, and action; to still feel the thrill and stimulation that comes from friendly praise and approbation, when one has seventy years behind him, is to have solved in no half way the problem of living. To look back upon the current of this life brings to us much of charm and of interest and instruction. Born in good old Virginia, he still takes the pride, peculiar to her sons, in all the traditions of 39 birthplace. Brought up in Ohio, amid surround- ings none too large, the labor and self-sacrifice with which he has made his way, and gained his education and his profession, showed the deter- mination and energy of purpose which have been notable elements of his character in after life. The earlier years of professional life he spent first in country practice, and then in Zanesville, and it was during these years that he laid the foundation of his future success. Here it was that he learned to be self-reliant, and to appreciate the strength which comes from one's confidence in his own observation and judgment. Active and energetic, and persistent in his work, he learned to adapt his means and resources to the end in view, and here it was that he prepared himself for the larger sphere of action which came in later years. It is always of interest to recall the importance of the personal equation in success, and note how great the number is of those who have become leaders and pioneers in medical progress, who have had their character formed and molded in narrow places, and have received their training amid influences which would seem to preclude the possibility of large experience. Acuteness of observation, a quick insight into cause and consequence, a ready appreciation of the just relations of things, enable the original mind to grasp by intuition what falls unseen and unappreciated on the man who walks simply in the footsteps of traditional training. Thus a 40 pewter spoon adapted on the spur of the moment to the purpose in hand in a little town in Alabama makes Sims the leading spirit in gynecology of the nineteenth century, whose advice was soon eagerly sought after throughout the world. I doubt not that the experience gained, and the self-reliance developed during those years in general country work, had much to do with enabling him to grasp the large success which came to him in later years. More than half of his seventy years have been spent with us in Cincinnati, and here his trained judgment and mature skill has been put forth in the exercise of his professional career, and it is here that his life work will be judged. It is needless for me to say to you who are collected here to-night what that work has been. You know, as well as I, the commanding position he has taken, the prominence he has attained in gynecology; and his active part in developing this branch of surgery, and if I mistake not the pecu- niary success of his private hospital, situated with rare good judgment, has induced more than one aspiring operator to follow in his footsteps without success apparently as satisfactory. It is equally needless for me to dwell on his kindly considerate elements of character, the quickly extended hand, the ready sympathy, under whose genial influence antagonism has melted away, and enmity itself has been replaced by respect, regard, esteem and affection. 41 "The child is father of the man." The child of seventy years ago—the man of to-day. As we look upon the change and progress in the world, who would have been bold enough to predict the outcome of the one from the other? Who could have been prophetic enough seventy years ago to predict the man of the telephone, the telegraph, and stenographer; of the electric button; of the bicycle, the sleeping car and ocean racer? Who could have foreseen the surgeon of anesthetics, of antiseptics, of Roentgen Rays and trained nurses, of chemical analysis, of microscopic anat- omy, the surgeon of the gall bladder, the pus tube and appendix ? When have seventy years of life been lived so fast, and gone so far ? Man in the physical world is no longer what he was. And in that larger life, how changed our attitude toward past and present and future. How standards have been modified, how tests have been changed, how measures and scales have been reconstructed. What changes in authority, in creeds and fashion. Tempora mutatur, et nos mutamur in Mis—the etiquette of the world is constantly changing, the ethics remain the same. The Ten Command- ments are as sure a guide to life's proper conduct as they were on that very day that the tablets of stone were brought down from Mount Sinai. While men have trodden the pathway of honor in adversity and success, in sandals and buskins, in sabots and brogans, in moccasins and gaiters 42 and Wellington boots, grace and wit and beauty, the dimpled cheek, the laughing eye, "graceful shoulders, arms so sweetly scanned," command the same admiration and praise they have always done, though the golfing girl with her spiked shoes, and the bicyclist with her checked knicker- bockers no longer inspire the poet to sing of coy and modest maidenhood— '' Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice steal in and out As if afraid of light." The transformations that our guest has seen during his pilgrimage of three-score years and ten outshine the wonders and splendors of the Lamp itself. And now as we welcome him to our board, you will drink with me to his long life and happi- ness, with the heartfelt hope that the current of his life may bear him onward beneath unclouded skies, and that the lengthening shadows of the coming twilight may be lighted up by the kindly feeling of his host of friends. 43 The Toastmaster Introducing Dr. Reamy OUR friend needs no introduction. We have drunk to his health ; we will ever keep him in kindly remembrance, and we will ever pray that his life may be so ordered that in health and strength he may live the days that remain to him, and at last lie down to pleasant dreams. (Applause.) 45 Thaddeus Asbury Reamy, M. D. Eegponge by T&x. Iffeam? Mr. Toastmaster and Friends : UNDER the circumstances, it would be un- reasonable for you to expect me to say much. Probably under ordinary condi- tions I am as brave as the average man. Now, however, I am under bondage to emotion. Fortunately a formal address from me at this time would be in doubtful form. This is not my night in that way. From the glowing letters just read, the most eloquent speeches delivered by two of my most precious friends, and according to the toast list, other addresses by past-masters in elo- quence to follow; quite certain am I that on this occasion, at least, my reputation and fame are safer in the custody of friends than in my own keeping. Am I not fortunate, therefore, and are you not fortunate that temporary disability supervenes to save me from attempting a very improper thing— namely, making a formal speech at a dinner tend- ered to myself? When the kings of the earth speak let others remain silent. I will not break this silence, except in intimation of a few of the 49 underlying conditions and subsequent events lead- ing to my present resting place in life's journey. The fact that I have, for many years, worked in your midst establishing many and ardent friend- ships, and have reached an advanced age, might explain this magnificent banquet, this brilliantly lighted hall, fragrant with American beauties; this company of more than one hundred of God's elect, assembled to do me honor, and cheer me onward. All of this I can understand. But believe me. No dream of my earlier career, nor ambition of my later manhood had painted the scope and depth of the appreciation made plain to me now, and all by those in a position most favorable for observation and most competent to judge. This is largely a revelation. Is it any wonder that I am deeply touched? Through all the years it has been my constant aim so to live and work as to have the full approval of my own conscience and judgment—meantime diligently seeking to know the truth and the right. I was not unmindful of the sacredness of my chosen calling and the consequent stern necessity for the consecration of all my powers to the acqui- sition of knowledge, absolutely essential to effi- ciency and the highest degree of usefulness. In this way I hoped for success—for the confidence and friendship of mankind—the favor of God. For the moderate success which has marked my humble career I am largely indebted to the purity of ancestral blood: The best Scotch on 50 my mother's side ; the best French on my father's side; elaborated, as Dr. Dandridge has told you, in Virginia, in which State my parents were born and reared, and where I was born. In 1832 we removed to Ohio, settled on a small farm near Zanesville. The house was of dressed logs and comfortable. Here was reared a family of eleven children—three sons and eight daughters. To the spirit and influence of this home, contributed by father and mother, brothers and sisters, I owe much. In this same house my father and mother celebrated their golden wedding; and in it they died, since my residence in this city, aged respect- ively eighty years. Another asset inherited, which has been a blessing:—poverty to the extent of removing all temptation to idleness and its vicious progeny; instead, developing without friction or stint, indus- try and self-reliance. But I must not detain you. You have heard the old story of working on the farm in day time, studying at night; of struggles in securing an academic education ; of school-teach- ing ; of my nearly nine years of country practice, which was utilized in most profitable clinical expe- rience and original research. I have been in practice forty-five years. Dur- ing thirty-six years of this time I have been active in didactic and clinical teaching. I have been on continuous service in the Good Samaritan Hos- pital since 1871. In this time-honored institution much of my best clinical work was done. As you 51 all know, I had many years of work on the staff of the City Hospital. In all this time, in both hospitals, my relations with management and col- leagues were most cordial. I look back to this service, much of it charity, and to its sacred asso- ciations with the keenest pleasure. Indeed it is now difficult for me to say in which I found great- est delight, teaching or in private practice. In each field I have worked earnestly and, if I know my heart, conscientiously. As to teaching. Under proper conditions there is a charm about it indescribable. When it is remembered that the pupil is obtaining in the words spoken to him, and in the truth demon- strated, knowledge which later, in practical appli- cation results in the relief of pain, assuaging sorrow, saving human life;—at such a moment, when the earnest teacher feels that he has pene- trated the understanding of the young man, and fixed the loyalty of his soul to the work in hand, there comes to him the benediction of joy. The most difficult and expensive task in my teaching career was the successful establishment, and main- tenance of an obstetric clinic (in 1872) in a large amphitheater. It brought me great anxiety. It was a severe test of courage: but it was in the line of duty. Finally. Many have been my conflicts, bitter my disappointments, deep my sorrows: so also, many have been my victories, sweet my joys. And beyond there is light! 52 In deep humility, may I not in this presence say, that my seventy years have not been wholly in vain. A dinner announcing a doctor's seventieth birthday may be considered an invitation to quit. If I wanted to continue work, which I do not, the laity would say: Did not the doctors give him a farewell dinner when the old gentleman retired? To which the doctors would answer, Why, of course! So most of my business would be gone. I am glad. Surely the charge of idleness can not justly be made against me. For a time I shall do some consultation work. Soon, however, I shall resign all teaching and hospital positions. Still I hope frequently to be among you and enjoy the inspiration of association with you which has heretofore been an unmeasured source of joy and strength. Now I shall find more time for listening to the singing of the wild birds and to continue obser- vations and studies in my side hobby, entomology. I am complimented upon my robustness. It is to an extent deceptive; possibly partly the result of habit. I have for so many years asso- ciated with well kept doctors that it would be too bad for me to go out of form at once. Dear Friends: Out of the fullness of my heart I thank you all. 53 Dr. Conner Introducing Dr. J. T. Whittaker FOR long years there marched shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee, from the Nile to the Rhine, to the Danube, to the Elbe; there engaged in the shock of battle; there per- ished on the field of glory and of honor; there was kissed by the first rays of the sun of Austerlitz, and there was wrapped in the snows of the North and lost amid the ice of the Beresina, the noblest body of soldiers that ever stood in rank. No Grecian phalanx could compare with it; no Roman legion was its equal. It will ever remain the type of the soldier; the magnificent, the glorious, the ever honored Old Guard. As this one and that one passed away, he that came in became from the raw recruit the mature soldier and the old guards- man, and when at last the might of the first Napo- leon went down on the field of Waterloo, there perished the Old Guard that died but never sur- rendered. We have in medicine an "Old Guard," the men who are strong, the men who are noble, the men who are true, the men who make medicine what it is, and that Old Guard has lived on year after year and century after century. We have had here in our own city, noble specimens of these guardsmen of whom it might be said with every 55 truth, "Dead on the field of battle," when the roll was called after they had passed away. We have still with us some of the Old Guard and we have the memory of those that have gone. I call upon one whose genius is great, whose scholarship is remarkable, whose talent is wonderful, to address us upon "The Old Guard." 56 %'