Medford mail tribune., May 14, 1961, Image 43

V
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0
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A
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Brother Malcolm (holding baby, accompanied Tom on last trip to Laos.
Doctor Dooley (Continued
from page 4)
officer in this area was an old friend
and hitched a ride to his headquar
ters, where he went into one of his
famous sales talks which you might
have seen on TV. Within a few
hours, he had the plane again and
the complete backing of the troops, .
no matter who their boss was.
"Plans are fine," Tom noted, "but
Irish luck helps, too."
Both toh and I were lucky peo
ple. We came from a well-to- '
do family in St. Louis and never
wanted for a thing unless it Was
to be doing something. One of my
earliest recollections of Tom was
the way he collected maimed or ill
pets. We could have had the best
pedigrees, but the underdog was
Tom's favorite.
When his animal clinic upset the
well-run Dooley household, he
didn't give up. He just moved it
into Dad's garage and expanded.
When the menagerie got too big.
Dad would slip in at night, gather
up the sickest, and cart them to the
humane society.
Tom would be downcast for a
. while. "I might have been able to
help them," he'd complain. But by
afternoon he'd be in high spirits
again and collecting more strays.
We were lucky, too, that we had
cars, college, and a minimum of
worry as we grew older. On Satur
days, Tom would tool his snappy
convertible down to a home for de
linquent boys and drive them to
parts of St Louis they'd never seen
art galleries, museums, and fi
nally to our mother's comfortable
apartment
Tom would give them the idea
that all this wasn't out of a kid's
reach. He'd try to get the idea
across that there was plenty of
help available to those who'd help
themselves; later that was a prin
ciple of his medical aid help na
tions but make them do part, too.
I remember when Tom found his
purpose. I was an Air Force navi
gator, and my plane was ordered '
to Japan in May, 1954. Tom was
stationed there as a Navy medical
""officer, and I visited him. He was
restless and dissatisfied. He wanted
to be doing things. "I'm going to ask '
for sea duty," he told me. "Maybe
something will happen." It did.
Tom witnessed the flight of some
600,000 refugees from Communist
held Northern Vietnam to free
South. Vietnam. Eventually, he
was the only Navy doctor admin
istering to these needy. His ex
traordinary efforts brought him the
Legion of Merit; no other person
in the history of the U.S. Medical
Corps ever won it so young.
When I next saw Tom, he was
a different person. The ener
gy, determination, impatience were
the same but now directed un
waveringly, almost overwhelming
ly, toward a single goal: bringing
modern medicine to those living in
an era of witchcraft
Mother was upset when she first
heard about his plan to return to
Asia. She already had lost a son
in World War II, and now it seemed
as if she were losing still another.
But Tom had found what he want
ed to do. He might have built a
nice, lucrative practice in St Louis,
as we once expected but he would
never be happy with it Mother
- gave him a St Christopher's medal
to guide him on his long journey.
Tom celebrated his 34th birth
day on Jan. 17; only Francis Cardi
nal Spellman and I were permitted
to see him. The next day, as I was
proceeding with Tom's agenda plan,
I was summoned hurriedly to his
room. He died that night
Later, I was going through his
effects and came across the St
Christopher's medal that Mother
had given him in happier days. She
had had inscribed upon it some
words of Robert Frost:
The woods are lovely, dark
and deep,
But I have promises to keep, '
And miles to go before I sleep.
Tom went miles and kept prom
' ises. What's more, he showed many
others how to do the same, even
after he had left
12
family Weekly, Mty 14. IM1