FATHER OF THE YEAR

Father's Day will be here on Sunday, and my Dad is critically ill in the hospital. We do not know whether he will be here on Father's Day or if this one will be his last. I do not know whether the paper will honor fathers this year, but I want to nominate my father as "Father of the Year."

Dr. Harold Alan Schwartz has a special link to Father's Day- he is a retired obstetrician and gynecologist. During his more than forty years of practice he delivered over 10,000 babies, including my younger sister, Ellen, and my son Skip (his first grandchild). Almost everywhere we go in Chattanooga, former patients come up to our family to ask about Dad and to remind us that he delivered their children. During his residency and shortly thereafter he was instrumental in the discovery of the Rh factor and from this discovery made it possible for untold numbers of men to become fathers to healthy babies. My Dad, an only child, was born in Atlanta on July 29, 1911. My grandparents Julius and Rebecca Schwartz lived in Spartanburg, South Carolina but moved to Chattanooga when Dad was ten. Grandpa Schwartz owned the Rivoli Theater in East Chattanooga, and my family owned and operated many of the movie theaters here. Dad made an impact in the entertainment industry by being the first person to sell candy during the movies. (He was definitely the first one in this area and may have actually been the first one in the nation.)

Dad went to Dickenson Junior High and then to Baylor where he was valedictorian and the recipient of most of the academic awards (he also had the highest average in the school one year and the second highest another). He went to Vanderbilt where he was the number one man in the class academically (a woman had the highest average), a member of Phi Beta Kappa, captain of the tennis team, and president of Zeta Beta Tau fraternity. He had an opportunity to be a Rhodes Scholar but turned that down to enter Johns Hopkins Medical School from which he graduated in 1936. He married Mom (the former Eleanor Miller) on December 20, 1936. They had known each other for many years; and Dad recounted that, on seeing Mom at a Sunday School play at Mizpah Congregation, he would marry that girl.

After their marriage Dad and Mom lived in Europe for one year. Dad interned in Dublin (at the Rotunda Hospital, which at that time was the largest maternity hospital in the world) and in East Budapest Women's Hospital. They were supposed to go to Austria; but when the Nazis entered, the woman with whom they were to stay committed suicide. Dad still wanted to go to Austria to see the Auschloss, but Mom's more reasonable approach prevailed.

After Europe came New York City where Dad did his residency in obstetrics and gynecology at Bellevue Hospital for four years. Then came World War II, and Dad was assigned to the WAC base at Ft. Des Moines. I was born in Iowa in 1942. I am proud to be named after Dad, being a "Jr."; and our son "Skip" is a "III." We later were transferred to Colorado Springs, and then Dad was sent overseas where he commanded a 700 bed prisoner of war hospital near the Normandy coast.

During his overseas tour Dad and Mom wrote each other almost every day. Dad's letters were full of love for us and also gave interesting insights into life during that period in France. Mom kept his letters and has had them transcribed; someday we hope that they will be published. Along with the letters we have memorabilia, including paintings of the hospital done by prisoners, a wood cut of me made from a picture, and a German revolver which was given to Dad by the grateful father after Dad delivered his child in Belgium (the gun was apparently taken in hand-to-hand combat). Dad also brought home a full dress German uniform with an Iron Cross. This uniform was given to him for his birthday by his prisoners. Mom hated the sight of anything Nazi; and one day gave away the uniform to an itinerant collector who asked if she had any German souvenirs. I'm not sure if Dad ever forgave her, but he certainly enjoyed retelling the story of how the uniform was lost.

We settled in Chattanooga after the war. My sisters Patti and Ellen were born here. When we moved to Rivermont in 1951, my parents named our house "Elrold" (a combination of "Eleanor" and "Harold") and that is the place that my sisters and I think of as our home. Dad had an active practice in obgyn. For many years his partner was Dr. W. Powell Hutcherson. Dad recalls the medical community, upon learning of their intention to combine their practices, believed that it would last only two or three months. Over twenty-five years later Dad retired.

Dad lived a well-rounded life. He was a champion tennis player and won the city championship when he was in college. He gave up tennis when Mom noticed that he was so overheated that she was afraid that he would have a heart attack. After that he enjoyed golf, and even had two holes in one. Dad was active in professional organizations and served as president of the local and the state obgyn societies, as well as being a founding member of the American College of Obgyn. For the past twelve years an eminent speaker has come to Chattanooga for the Schwartz Lectureship; and Dad twice won a teaching award at Erlanger. The next Schwartz Lectureship is scheduled for Friday, June 18, 1999. I know that Dad will be there in spirit. Dad was active in the Jewish community. He was president of Mizpah Congregation (and when I, too, served in that capacity, I was proud to say I was a third generation president of my congregation and a fourth generation president of a Jewish house of worship in Chattanooga). Dad also served as president of the Chattanooga Jewish Federation.

Dad and Mom always wanted the best for us. They have always wanted us to use our capacities to the fullest. Education was particularly important, and no expense was spared in seeing that we attended the best institutions where we could matriculate. In return we were asked to do our best. My sister Patti is mentally challenged. My parents spent untold time seeking the best location for her. Having decided upon Annandale at Suwannee, my parents founded the Parents' Council to give input into the operation of the school.

Dad's profession meant that time with him was particularly precious. Many evenings Dad was at the hospital delivering babies. I like to sleep at night, and Dad's schedule convinced me that I would probably enjoy another profession (such as law) where clients do not call regularly past midnight. He called obstetrics "the happy branch of medicine" and going to the hospital now, where so many visitors are worried and unhappy, I appreciate the title.

I particularly remember going to baseball games with Dad. During the time of the old Southern Association, Dad was a Lookouts' fan; and we went to a number of games each year. When the Braves came to Atlanta, Dad's allegiance went to the major league team. For many years Dad and I went on a special weekend each year to Atlanta so see the Braves and to spend time together. This became even more special when Skip went with us to make it a three-generation trip.

Family was most important to Dad. Mom and Dad have had a storybook marriage of over 62 years. I remember one friend noting how it was obvious that they were always taking care of each other. During the last three years Mom has been coordinating sitters and doctors. Seven years ago it was Dad who discovered a lump in Mom's breast which the mammogram had missed. The lump was cancerous; Mom had surgery and is fine today. There were only two times I saw Dad cry. Once was when his father was near death. As we hugged, he told me he hoped he could be as good a father to me as Grandpa had been to him. I make the same wish to my children. The other time was when the doctor told us that Mom's lump was cancerous.

Dad was particularly partial to his grandchildren - Skip, Jeffrey Yellin, Brian Yellin (Jeffrey and Brian live in New Orleans), Karen Bishop, and Susan Bishop. Skip who now lives in Chicago and works in real estate investments was the first; and there are many stories told by his patients and staff about how Dad (who was called "Pop-Pop" by his grandchildren) would regale about his grandson. In fact, it was well known that whenever Dad was displeased about staff performance or a patient's weight, the best way to change his mood and the subject was to ask about Skip. The addition of other grandchildren has brought him much joy, and he would delight in relating their latest accomplishments. My wife Elwynn and my sister Ellen's husband Marc were considered children, not in-laws; and marriage brought a complete acceptance of our spouses.

There is one memory that I will always have. One night when I was about four years old I had a terrible nightmare--there was a monster under my bed. I woke up afraid, and I knew that at the least I was destined to be something's midnight snack. I went into my parents' room crying. Dad took me back to bed and spent the night with me. The monster never returned. Dad's influence and his caring have helped me conquer the real monsters of life--those monsters that are content with mediocrity or who would substitute callowness for compassion. It is ironic and symbolic that Dad may not be here on Father's Day. That would mean that the traditional Jewish time of remembering the deceased on the anniversary of their death will coincide with the secular day that honors fathers. But our Kaddish praises God; and I must thank God for my special father and that he could share his skills to help so many others.

Lovingly submitted
Harold Alan Schwartz, Jr.
June 14, 1999

Letter From Former German POW Stirs Memories for Dr. Schwartz

by Carolyn Mitchell
Times Staff Writer

They finagled steaks out of the central quartermaster in exchange for fresh vegetables. They manufactured a jeep from spare parts to replace one which was stolen during an officer's outing in Paris. And once as they were attending to the wounded, their operating room collapsed in a storm.

Recounting his experiences at the 189th General Hospital for German POWs, Dr. Harold Schwartz observes with a laugh, "You now, 'M*A*S*H' isn't that exaggerated after all."

The Chattanooga physician's.recollections of the year he spent as commanding officer of the 1,500-bed tent hospital in Lison, France, during World War II were prodded by a letter he received a few weeks ago from Manfred Hofmann, the German captive who served as Schwartz's interpreter.

In the process of writing his autobiography Hofmann decided to try to contact the American officer who was central to the German's account of his stay in Lison.

Unable to obtain Schwartz's address from the German telephone information service, Hofmann mailed his letter to the doctor with the following request typed on the envelope: "Dear Mr. Postman, we only know the telephone number, but not the correct address. Can you help us, please? Thank you very much!"

As it turned out, the telephone number was years out of date, but an accommodating postal official looked up Schwartz's address and saw to it that the letter reached its destination.

The politely-worded one-page letter revealed that Hofmann, now 54, is married to a newspaper reporter and is "twice a grandfather" It also showed that the German bears no ill-will toward his former enemy.

In closing, Hofmann wrote, "Today I'll take the opportunity to thank you again for everything that you've done for me. while I was nothing else than a wounded young man and a poor PW without any hope and future.”

Schwartz recalls Hofmann as "a sensitive young man who had been studying medicine when the war broke out and was resentful at being called into the service."

Although Schwartz spoke some German and French, he selected the "very reliable" 18-year-old as his interpreter.

Hofmann was extremely valuable when Schwartz's command of German escaped him during a burst of anger.

Once, after surprising a prisoner who was ransacking the C.O.'s desk, for cigarettes, Schwartz called on his aide to administer a tongue-lashing to the German weed fiend.

Hofmann was also helpful on happier occasions. Among Schwartz's memorabilia is. the announcement of the end of the war - written in both German and English - which was distributed at the hospital. Hofmann, Schwartz notes, helped prepare the German version of the memorandum.

Adhering to his motto, "Firm but fair,” Schwartz says he allowed the POWs to play, soccer and present shows. The Germans with artistic talent depicted scenes of the medical installation, and two of the prisoners’ paintings hang in Schwartz’ study.

“Even during the war, you could buy oils and other art supplies in little French towns,” the doctor points out.

On his birthday the prisoners presented Schwartz with a Nazi uniform bearing the Iron Cross, the highest German military decoration. “I brought it home,” says Schwartz, “but my wife hated it so much, she threw it away."

Another birthday observance was not so pleasant for the young American medical officer. Among the prisoners was a stalwart Nazi who insisted on celebrating Hitler's birthday against Schwartz's orders. For his offense, the POW was placed in solitary confinement for a couple of days.

Schwartz also recalls placing all the prisoners on bread and water for two days after he discovered them dumping their rations of corn into the garbage cans. “They thought corn was just for cows," he explains.

Actually, the hospital boasted the best mess hall in the area, Schwartz says. "The prisoners grew green vegetables in an apple orchard, so we had plenty of lettuce, cabbage, string beans and peas. We exchanged some of the fresh vegetables for steaks with the central quartermaster. And we swapped chocolate for eggs. A lot of the brass came by to eat with us."

Indeed, even though the hospital was a "mudhole" in the fall and the prisoners had work assignments to perform, they obviously preferred the conditions there to returning to the battlefield. Only one German man attempted to escape. His punishment? “We wouldn't let him back in," Schwartz chuckles.

“Most of the prisoners knew they were well off, and they were happy to be where they were,” he added.

In his reply to Hofmann's letter, Schwartz, described some of the major events of his life over the past 35 years. At the end of the letter the doctor wrote, "Now that we are no longer enemies, we can be friends."

Obituary

TUESDAY, JULY 6, 1999
Chattanooga Times. Chattanooga Free Press
Dr. Harold A. Schwartz Dies; Was Obstetrician, Gynecologist
Dr. Harold A. Schwartz, a well- known obstetrician and gynecologist, died Sunday, July 4, 1999, in a local hospital. He was 87.

Dr. Schwartz was born in Atlanta and was the only child of Julius and Rebecca Schwartz. His family lived in Spartanburg, S.C., until they moved to Chattanooga when he was 10.

He graduated from Baylor School and Vanderbilt University, where he was a member of Phi Beta Kappa. He earned his medical degree from Johns Hopkins Medical School.

During his residency, he was instrumental in the discovery of the RH factor, which made it possible for an untold number of healthy babies to be born. He interned in several hospitals, including the Rotunda Hospital in Dublin, Ireland, and at the East Budapest Women's Hospital in Budapest, Hungary.

Dr. Schwartz completed his residency in obstetrics and gynecology at Bellevue Hospital in New York City.

At the beginning of World War II, he was assigned to the Women's Army Corps base at Fort Des Moines, Iowa. Later he was sent overseas to command a 700-bed, prisoner-of-war hospital near the Normandy coast. Dr. and Mrs. Schwartz returned to Chattanooga after the war.

He was active in numerous professional organizations. Dr.Schwartz was a founding member of the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology. He served as president of local and state OB-GYN societies.

He called obstetrics "the happy branch of medicine."

During his more than 40 years of practice, he delivered more than 10,000 babies, including one of his daughters and his oldest grandson.

He was active in the Jewish community, serving as president of the Mizpah Congregation. He also served as president of the Chattanooga Jewish Foundation.

Dr. Schwartz was a past city tennis champion and captain of the Vanderbilt tennis team.

Survivors include his wife, Eleanor Miller Schwartz; son, Harold A. Schwartz, Jr.; two daugh- ters, Patti Schwartz, Suwanee, Ga., and Ellen S. Yellin, New Orleans; and five grandchildren.

Services will be Thursday at 10:30 a.m. at the Ochs Memorial Temple with Rabbis Philip Posner and Kenneth Kanter officiating.

Burial will follow at the Mizpah Cemetery.

Visitation will be Wednesday from 5 to 7 p.m. at the J. Avery Bryan Funeral Home and one hour before the service at the temple.

Memorial contributions may be made to the Miller-Schwartz Fund of Mizpah Congregation, and the Annandale Village, 3500 Annandale Lane, Suwanee, Ga. 30024.