". . . Dr. Welch is only 70 years old and has at least ten years of active work before him. Ten years of Dr. Welch is more important, in our estimation, than the advantages offered by other universities." This terse appraisal of William Henry Welch, "Dean of American Medicine," by the powers of the Rockefeller Foundation in 1920, netted Johns Hopkins $7,000,000 much sought after by other universities, to found its School of Hygiene and Public Health. Many another loose million has been lured to Johns Hopkins to be converted into buildings, laboratories, endowment by the scientific and diplomatic prowess of energetic Octogenarian Welch.
Curious people who wish to see so magnetic a personality had best not write for an appointment. In his book-littered bachelor quarters he piles the day's mail, unopened, on a great oak table. Over this a newspaper is spread on which the following day's mail goes. This unique filing system usually collapses after a few days; the mail is thrown in the wastebasket by a despairing housekeeper.
One who wishes to enjoy the deep laugh, the sparkling conversation of William Henry Welch should seek him out at Baltimore's Maryland or University Clubs, where he often sits playing chess; or in the white-tiled chain restaurant where he frequently eats; or at the university whose medical school he has made world-famed.
Seekers could, early this week (April 8), have found Dr. Welch seated with Herbert Hoover, President Livingston Farrand of Cornell and Director Simon Flexner of the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, on the stage of Memorial Continental Hall in Washington. He was fidgeting nervously, smiling sheepishly under a barrage of praise which was going out to scores of notables who sat peering at him from the audience, and to radio listeners all over the world. It was Dr. Welch's 80th birthday party. To uphold the ancient custom of birthday present-giving the committee in charge of the celebration was hard put. No degrees could they give Dr. Welch; he had 18. Medals would not answer; he had plenty of them. On other occasions he had been given the presidencies of most of the prominent medical societies, had been decorated a number of times by foreign governments. Final decision: a dry point etching by Alfred Hutty. Print No. 1 went to Dr. Welch. The rest of the edition (45 copies) was scattered over the world to medical institutes, colleges, museums. As the prints of the etching were presented to various medical groups, ceremonies were held similar to the one in Washington.
The story of the man they honored:
Fourth generation representative of a medical family, young William Welch decided when he was graduated from Yale to upset Welch tradition, to teach Greek and Latin instead of studying medicine. He realized his mistake after a year, went back to Yale, then to the College of Physicians & Surgeons (Manhattan), then to Strassburg, Leipzig, Vienna, Berlin. Breslau, where he rubbed elbows with mountainous medical names: Paul Ehrlich (discoverer of salvarsan); Koch (discoverer of the bacilli of anthrax, tuberculosis, cholera); Pasteur (vaccines).