Several adjectives describe my perception of my colleague and good friend: precise, orderly, careful, scholarly, gentlemanly, inquisitive, affable, caring, imperturbable, and well informed. Ben was, inarguably, just a good man, a heck of a good doctor, an immense credit to his chosen profession.

Ben and I met soon after I came to Dallas in 1950 to set up a practice of internal medicine in the Baylor University Medical Center community. Fifteen years later, in 1965, he invited me to share medical director duties at Fidelity Union Life Insurance Co. Together, then, for some 30 years we pursued the somewhat esoteric discipline of life insurance medicine—a stochastic exercise, as it were, in “pondering the imponderable and estimating the inestimable.”

By curious coincidence, a few years ago Ben and I fell victim to a common ailment. By sharing complaints in common, periodic reviews of current literature, and respective coping strategies, we got to know each other very well indeed!

Several weeks ago, Ben acquired a vicious and peculiarly implacable pneumonia, to this day an enigma as to cause and utterly refractory to all therapy. In the wee hours of Friday, October 29, 1999, death rescued Ben from his stricken earthly body, and he vanished into the swirling shadowy mists of eternity. I believe his destination to be a place where there is no pain nor sorrow nor crying nor death, for these things shall have passed away.

So now—adios, old friend, adios. Hope you had a wonderful trip. See you soon, for the months and years flee quickly now.

Tom M. Dees, MD

What an honor and a privilege to have had Ben Merrick not only as a close friend for 37 years but as a partner for 25 years—especially in those beginning, formative years when he taught me the “art” of the practice of medicine. I shall be forever grateful for the time he spent with me.

To have practiced medicine for 25 years in the same office with this man was truly a unique experience. Although he began in humble surroundings, Ben parted this life a giant among men, with the total respect and deep admiration of not only his many patients but his peers as well. Physicians of his caliber are few and far between. He will be deeply missed by all with whom he made contact.

John S. Fordtran, MD

For the last 2 years, I met with Ben Merrick several times a month to discuss the book being written to celebrate Baylor's 100th birthday. Ben became one of the best friends I have ever had. The meetings stopped only when Ben became ill.

Ben had an intense interest in medical history. His description of Baylor doctors and nurses in the 56th Evacuation Hospital has been published (1, 2). I will try to relate a few of the other stories Ben told me about his professional life in Dallas, which I hope will be of interest to the many Baylor doctors who loved Ben but didn't get a chance to talk with him as much as I did.

Ben's practice of internal medicine began in early 1946 in rented office space in a 2-story building owned by Dr. Edwin Rippy on Fairmount Street in the Oak Lawn area. Fairmount was a street with a dozen or more doctor's offices in 1- or 2-story homelike structures, comprising a medical neighborhood of various specialties, most of the physicians being on the Baylor University Hospital staff. Later he moved to a 2-story former residence on Cedar Springs, still in the Oak Lawn area. His office was downstairs, and for a time he lived upstairs with his family. He charged $3 for an office visit and $5 for a house call. The office procedures he did were similar to those of many internists then, including chest fluoroscopy, chest x-rays, upper gastrointestinal barium studies, and barium enemas using the x-ray unit he had bought; electrocardiograms; and simple laboratory studies such as blood counts and urinalyses.

Building a practice was a slow process, and he had a lot of time on his hands. He drove long distances to make residence visits. He was also receptive to earning pay for medical services outside the office or hospital. Insurance company physicals were welcome. Dr. Tinsley Harrison, chief of medicine at Southwestern Medical School, had created a housestaff teaching program at the McKinney Veterans Hospital. In 1946 Dr. Harrison arranged for Drs. Howard Heyer, Elias Strauss, and Ben Merrick to be paid $180 per month for twice-weekly trips to McKinney to do teaching rounds with the housestaff there.

Ben was also on call for several hotels. One night he received a call to a hotel to see a Turkish man. For rather vague complaints the patient requested cupping on his back. The patient produced a dozen or more small glass cups made for that purpose. Being curious, Ben agreed. After a bit of coaching, Ben proceeded to apply the cups to the skin of the back immediately after setting fire to a wisp of cotton in each cup, the flame extinguishing immediately on application of cup to skin. Removal of the cups left multiple small rounded areas of petechiae. “The patient seemed satisfied, but there was no long-term follow-up.”

Also in 1946, through the influence of Dr. Tinsley Harrison and Dr. Henry Winans, Ben became the first director of internal medicine education at St. Paul Hospital, then less than a mile from Baylor Hospital. This was a part-time paid position, which lasted until St. Paul moved to its new hospital in 1963. Four senior medical students were assigned to rotate through this department at St. Paul. There was a clinical pathologic conference every Sunday morning, rotating between Parkland Hospital (where Dr. Harrison conducted), Baylor Hospital (where Dr. Winans conducted), and St. Paul Hospital (where Dr. Merrick presided). These well-attended conferences lasted from 1946 until 1950, when Dr. Harrison departed Dallas.

The Dallas County Medical Society formed an emergency medical service committee in 1955 to prepare for an atomic attack on Dallas. Ben was chosen to head this committee, which began his 15-year involvement with nuclear war disaster planning. The committee had physician representatives from the 4 major Dallas hospitals, plus the chief of the Dallas City-County Civil Defense and Disaster Commission. Foreseeing nuclear blast destruction of the telephone network, the committee formed a radio network connecting the 4 hospitals, appointing 1 staff member of each hospital as chief of disaster planning. Not long afterwards, Ben was made chairman of the committee on disaster medical care of the Texas Medical Association. Subsequently, he was given responsibility for statewide nuclear casualty care planning. The plan evolved included the strategic placement of the federally supplied 200-bed civil defense emergency hospitals, 107 being placed around the state. These were portable, 200-cot tent hospitals with an x-ray unit, laboratory equipment, medications, and other items.

Ben always had a twinkle in his eye and was very energetic. He would often study in the Dallas Public Library in between our visits and bring something to talk about to the next meeting. He was totally unselfish, always searching for a way to be of help but never wanting any of the credit. He never had an unkind word about anyone else. He was a precious man who made me want to be better one.

E. R. Hayes, MD

Ben and I were classmates in the 1938 class of Baylor College of Medicine when it was here in Dallas. He was always at or near the top of his class. At that time he was still using his Czech name—Mikulencak. We had one lecture room and were seated alphabetically in it. As the roll was being called—Marchman, Medford, pause—from the back part of the room came Ben's voice, “Mikulencak, Sir.”

As I think back, it seems that there are 4 words that best characterize my friend: unassuming, organized, excellent, dependable. He never seemed to depart from these in his personal life or in his professional life.

There is another gap in that roll call now. It leaves a real vacancy for me.

William C. Roberts, MD

Born Benjamin August Mikulencak in Granger, Texas, Dr. Ben Merrick was the youngest of 10 children, all of whom spoke Czech before learning English. Dr. Merrick was valedictorian of the Granger High School class of 1931. He attended Baylor Belton College and The University of Texas at Austin before entering Baylor University College of Medicine in Dallas, from which he graduated in 1938. During World War II Dr. Merrick was one of a group of Baylor physicians assigned to the 56th Evacuation Hospital, which served in North Africa and in Italy. In 1946 he returned to Dallas, where he practiced medicine for the next 39 years. At one time he was president of the staff at Baylor University Medical Center and also president of the Dallas Internist Club.

Ben was a loved physician. He was a very positive person, and his wife, Letha, told me that he never said a bad word about anyone during their long marriage. Just a few days before he died, he said to Letha, “It's been so good I would like to do it all over again.” He was talking about his wonderful life.

At his funeral on October 31, 1999, his stepson, Ted Seel, from Victoria, Texas, delivered the eulogy, and it is reproduced here with his permission.

Marvin J. Stone, MD

Ben Merrick was a wonderful physician who was dedicated to his patients and profession. I knew Ben in his later years. Even after retiring from active practice, he regularly attended internal medicine grand rounds. After I gave a talk on William Osler about 10 years ago, Ben sent me his copy of Osler's The Evolution of Modern Medicine, which I treasure. When I thanked him, he said simply, “I thought you would enjoy having it.”

On a number of occasions we talked about various aspects of medical history, including the origins of internal medicine. I referred him to The Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine by Veith and The Inner History of Internal Medicine by Beeson and Maulitz. He used them to prepare an article he was writing for the forthcoming Baylor centennial.

Ben recounted his World War II experiences with the 56th Evacuation Hospital (Baylor Unit) in a book and in an excellent article published in these Proceedings in 1992. I reread his article recently and felt as if I were watching Saving Private Ryan. At Anzio, the hospital admitted >1100 battle casualties in the first 36 hours! In addition to being a superb doctor, respected teacher, and outstanding medical leader, Ben was a war hero. But you never would have known about all these accomplishments from Ben. His gracious, kind, and gentle demeanor was all you saw. During the past year, Ben gave John Fordtran a copy of Matthew Baillie's Morbid Anatomy. This first American edition was published in 1795—as Ben said, “when Washington was still president.” This rare book will be on display in the Stone Library at the Baylor Institute for Immunology Research in memory of Dr. Ben Merrick.

1. Merrick BA. The History of the 56th Evacuation Hospital. Buffalo, NY: Holling Press, 1946 (available in the Baylor Health Sciences Library, BUMC).
2. Merrick BA. The 56th evacuation hospital (Baylor Unit) overseas in World War II. BUMC Proceedings 1992;5(4):27-42.