Dear Midge (Jeff's wife, my mother),
I was devoted to your husband four years.
His very own private adm. asst.
In stupidity I did not save any tapes that I transcribed. In the last few months he called me everyday to dictate by phone as I typed his words. Any letters he wrote in that marvelous mind are yours. I will find them all and xerox them for you.
You see, Midge, I love you as Jeff's mate.
He has an office in the center pavilion. He couldn't get there to see his private window. There is a sign on the door that reads Jeffrey A. Gottlieb, M.D., under that sign is another that reads Edmund A. Gehan, Ph.D. That's the way Dr. Gehan wanted it.
Those signs should stay there forever. One day when you are able, come see Jeff's private office. The pavilion has stood approximately 18 years. It will stand forever now for Dr. Gottlieb. - Dorothy Abernathy, 6:45 AM
7:10 I had another thought quick get it down. A Ph.D. who writes about mosquitos (I know that's important) occupies a larger office that is decorated with his beautiful property. That should belong to Dr. Gottlieb. We will decorate that with Dr. Gottlieb's property. I have some things for it too. Your wish is my command.
Dr. Freireich told me there will be a chair in Jeff's Name. It is Dr. Freireich's decision and yours where office for your husband will be. It should be at MDA of course.
Dear Jay,
As always you are right the first time. Just tell me where Dr. Gottlieb's office will be so I can donate to it.
October 23, 2011
Personal Letter - Richard W. Wolk, MD
Dear J (Jay Freireich),
Knowing that the greatest docs were caring for him, gave me some comfort when I heard that Jeff had died. I am aware of the tremendous personal and professional loss that this represents to you and the department, and yet I am awed by how Jeff enriched the lives of people with whom he interacted. Jeff left a generous estate for us all. To the extent that we are inspired by that estate, Jeff's spirit will live.
Midge told about the Memorial service that you have planned for Sunday. I can't be there physically, but I won't be thinking of much else that day.
Knowing that the greatest docs were caring for him, gave me some comfort when I heard that Jeff had died. I am aware of the tremendous personal and professional loss that this represents to you and the department, and yet I am awed by how Jeff enriched the lives of people with whom he interacted. Jeff left a generous estate for us all. To the extent that we are inspired by that estate, Jeff's spirit will live.
Midge told about the Memorial service that you have planned for Sunday. I can't be there physically, but I won't be thinking of much else that day.
Department of Pathology
Dr. Gottlieb, a cancer patient himself, was attended by Dr. Robert Livingston and Dr. Emil Freireich. He was admitted to the hospital as a patient on June 28, 1975 and succumbed to the disease he had worked so hard to conquer on July 1, 1975 at 7:52 AM. Ultimately, bronchopneumonia, caused by a Flavobacterium, would claim his life, though clearly the metastatic cancer was the culprit.
A note from myself, I decided not to follow my father into the cancer field, although I did my earliest research at M.D. Anderson working in the field of leukemia. After my Ph.D. in biological sciences, I briefly worked in the area of cancer therapeutics, including working on new diagnostics and biomarkers for breast cancer, among others. My interests, though, lay in virology. I had studied polyomavirus in my Ph.D. and, interesting enough was on a Cancer Training Grant from NIH, for polyomavirus is considered one of the classic tumor viruses. Today, as many as 40% of cancers are considered to arise from viruses. I switched my focus to vaccines and have worked for the past 7 years to bring new vaccines through clinical trials, including smallpox, influenza, adenovirus, dengue virus, Japanese encephalitis virus, and many others. I find it fitting that today, my father's career and my career have converged with the rise of cancer vaccines.
A note from myself, I decided not to follow my father into the cancer field, although I did my earliest research at M.D. Anderson working in the field of leukemia. After my Ph.D. in biological sciences, I briefly worked in the area of cancer therapeutics, including working on new diagnostics and biomarkers for breast cancer, among others. My interests, though, lay in virology. I had studied polyomavirus in my Ph.D. and, interesting enough was on a Cancer Training Grant from NIH, for polyomavirus is considered one of the classic tumor viruses. Today, as many as 40% of cancers are considered to arise from viruses. I switched my focus to vaccines and have worked for the past 7 years to bring new vaccines through clinical trials, including smallpox, influenza, adenovirus, dengue virus, Japanese encephalitis virus, and many others. I find it fitting that today, my father's career and my career have converged with the rise of cancer vaccines.
MD Anderson Messenger - Aug-Sept 1975
In Memorium - Dr. Jeffrey A. Gottlieb
Dr. Jeffrey A. Gottlieb, chief of Chemotherapy Service at Anderson died July 1, of cancer.
At age 35, Dr. Gottlieb had established himself as an international leader in the field of chemotherapy. After joining M.D. Anderson in 1970, he pioneered the use of two important antitumor drugs, adriamycin and bleomycin, in the treatment of cancer patients.
Dr. Gottlieb was a master at combining chemicals so as to take advantage of their different actions, molding them into treatments more effective than any of the drugs used alone. He contributed significantly to the technique of clinical testing of the drugs, improving the efficiency and effectiveness of such drug trials. Treatments developed by Dr. Gottlieb are widely used throughout the world.
"That we should lose him is nothing short of tragic," says Dr. Emil Freireich, head of the Department of Development Therapeutics, under whom Dr. Gottlieb worked. 'Every day we can cure more and more people of cancer. But there is always that small percentage for whom it seems nothing we cna do really helps. The day we can stop every single case, that is the day we are working for. It is the goal towards which Dr. Gottlieb was working."
Dr. Gottlieb serviced Anderson in many ways other than those in his capacities as Chief of Chemotherapy Service, Associate Professor of Medicine and Associate Internist. His administrative activities included serving as Chairman of the Investigational Drug Committee and as a member of the Pharmacy and Therapeutics Committee of the Executive Committee of the Medical Staff. He devised an excellent procedure for the introduction and safe administration of new drugs to patients. He was a member of Anderon's Education Committee and served on the Program Committee for 1973 for the Medical Oncology Course, on 1974 Clinical Conference Program Committee, and on the 1976 Symposium Topics Subcommittee.
He gave Anderson and the people who worked with him his quiet leadership and warm interest. It is for these qualities, added to his remarkable accomplishments, that he will be remembered through the Jeffrey A. Gottlieb Memorial Fund to establish an annual lectureship. Those wishing to contribute may do so at E.R. Gilley's office, room 116.
Dr. Jeffrey A. Gottlieb, chief of Chemotherapy Service at Anderson died July 1, of cancer.
At age 35, Dr. Gottlieb had established himself as an international leader in the field of chemotherapy. After joining M.D. Anderson in 1970, he pioneered the use of two important antitumor drugs, adriamycin and bleomycin, in the treatment of cancer patients.
Dr. Gottlieb was a master at combining chemicals so as to take advantage of their different actions, molding them into treatments more effective than any of the drugs used alone. He contributed significantly to the technique of clinical testing of the drugs, improving the efficiency and effectiveness of such drug trials. Treatments developed by Dr. Gottlieb are widely used throughout the world.
"That we should lose him is nothing short of tragic," says Dr. Emil Freireich, head of the Department of Development Therapeutics, under whom Dr. Gottlieb worked. 'Every day we can cure more and more people of cancer. But there is always that small percentage for whom it seems nothing we cna do really helps. The day we can stop every single case, that is the day we are working for. It is the goal towards which Dr. Gottlieb was working."
Dr. Gottlieb serviced Anderson in many ways other than those in his capacities as Chief of Chemotherapy Service, Associate Professor of Medicine and Associate Internist. His administrative activities included serving as Chairman of the Investigational Drug Committee and as a member of the Pharmacy and Therapeutics Committee of the Executive Committee of the Medical Staff. He devised an excellent procedure for the introduction and safe administration of new drugs to patients. He was a member of Anderon's Education Committee and served on the Program Committee for 1973 for the Medical Oncology Course, on 1974 Clinical Conference Program Committee, and on the 1976 Symposium Topics Subcommittee.
He gave Anderson and the people who worked with him his quiet leadership and warm interest. It is for these qualities, added to his remarkable accomplishments, that he will be remembered through the Jeffrey A. Gottlieb Memorial Fund to establish an annual lectureship. Those wishing to contribute may do so at E.R. Gilley's office, room 116.
Harris County Medical Society - July 16, 1975
Dear Mrs. Gottlieb:
The recent loss of you, your family and friends sustained is shared by all members of the Harris County Medical Society. We were deeply saddened to learn of Doctor Gottlieb's passing.
We would like for you know that your husband's colleagues stand ready to be of help to you in this time of grief and sorrow. We are aware that the next few weeks will be most trying for you but we wish to inform you that a committee comprised of past presidents of this Medical Society is available for counseling with you should you need assistance with the myriad details concerning the business side of the doctor's practice. If you need this service, when it is convenient for you, please contact Mrs. Dean Little in the Medical Society office and she will be happy to arrange a meeting of the Heir committee to meet with you and discuss how it may be of help.
The physicians of Harris County Medical Society are selecting a volume to be placed as a permanent memorial to Doctor Gottlieb in the Houston Academy of Medicine Library for the Texas Medical Center. This book will carry a designation on the inside front of its cover to the memory of your husband.
Again, we wish to express our sympathy in your loss. We share this moment of grief and sadness with you and offer our sincerest condolences.
William M. Sherrill, M.D. (President)
The recent loss of you, your family and friends sustained is shared by all members of the Harris County Medical Society. We were deeply saddened to learn of Doctor Gottlieb's passing.
We would like for you know that your husband's colleagues stand ready to be of help to you in this time of grief and sorrow. We are aware that the next few weeks will be most trying for you but we wish to inform you that a committee comprised of past presidents of this Medical Society is available for counseling with you should you need assistance with the myriad details concerning the business side of the doctor's practice. If you need this service, when it is convenient for you, please contact Mrs. Dean Little in the Medical Society office and she will be happy to arrange a meeting of the Heir committee to meet with you and discuss how it may be of help.
The physicians of Harris County Medical Society are selecting a volume to be placed as a permanent memorial to Doctor Gottlieb in the Houston Academy of Medicine Library for the Texas Medical Center. This book will carry a designation on the inside front of its cover to the memory of your husband.
Again, we wish to express our sympathy in your loss. We share this moment of grief and sadness with you and offer our sincerest condolences.
William M. Sherrill, M.D. (President)
October 19, 2011
Amherst - Fall 1975
I was scarcely able to hear and couldn't at all understand the person at the other end of the line, and shouted into the telephone that she had better try to replace the call. When she did a minute later the connection was clear, and I learned from Jeff Gottlieb's sister that Jeff had died of cancer a short time before.
It was a numbing message. So often the bereaved relative must soothe others in their shock at hearing of the death of a friend, and so it was with Sybil, as I babbled mindlessly that this was terrible news.
Two days later I flew to Houston to attend a large memorial service held for Jeff by his colleagues at the M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute of the Texas Medical Center. By then I knew that Jeff had learned he had cancer seven years ago.
He and Midge moved to Baltimore that year, so that Jeff, who had completed his internship at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis and his residency in pediatrics at Children's Hospital in Boston, could become a Clinical Associate at the National Cancer Institute. In that fact appears his heroic courage and the ultimate tragedy. While he told no except Midge and his own physician of the sentence under which he was condemned to live, Jeff decided to give the rest of his life to fighting the disease by which he must finally be slain.
He proved a formidable contender. In seven years, Jeff acquired an international reputation in the field of cancer chemotherapy. He was responsible for introducing the drugs adriamycin and bleomycin into clinical practice, and also devised combination chemotherapy regimens for treatment of soft tissue sarcomas, incorporating those and conventional drugs. His studies leading to these and other developments in the fields of cancer management and drug research were published in scores of journal articles, chapters in medical treatises, abstracts, and papers. He was also a highly skilled and very popular physician.
Jeff's reputation at the M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute, where he was Head of the Section of Chemotherapy in the Department of Developmental Therapeutics and also Associate Professor of Medicine and Associate Internist, was based on more than his scientific discoveries, however. He was admired for his deep personal concern for his patients, and for the diplomatic ability, also stemming from his concern for other people, by which he was able to make of the brilliant but often headstrong professional staff at the Institute an effective, coherent group.
I knew very little of what I have just written before flying to Houston for Jeff's memorial service. Jeff was not given to self-laudation, and anyway he had so many other interests to talk about.
He was very interested in drama. Jeff was a member of the Masquers at Amherst, and seriously considered becoming a professional actor. Although he chose medicine instead, Jeff kept his love of drama alive by acting with amateur groups, and by collecting and reading plays. I remember that on almost every occasion that I visited Jeff and Midge - occasions that were unfortunately infrequent since I was living outside the country - Jeff excitedly brought out several new books of plays that he had recently acquired.
His colleagues say that his love of drama, and his dramatic skill, were evident in his reading of papers before scientific meetings. Very few others were able to hold an audience in a state of excitement at such readings.
He also loved music. Jeff sang with the Choir and the Glee Club at Amherst, and in Houston he sang with the Houston Symphony Chorale. He had a rich baritone voice, which may in part have accounted for his ability to hold the attention of his medical colleagues. The Houston Symphony Chorale sang, sadly but beautifully, at the memorial service.
While I saw him act and heard him sing, Jeff was not for me any more an actor and a singer than he was a brilliant scientist, physician, and administrator. For me, he was a friend, a good friend since we met as freshmen at Amherst thirteen years ago.
He and Midge joined my wife and me on the first (and final) day of our honeymoon in western Massachusetts. Coming straight from the Amherst reunion of that year, they both wore straw reunion hats with purple and white bands. Looking on the honeymooners, Jeff greeted us by solemnly invoking, "May this be the most unhappy day of the rest of your lives."
It is ironic that what was most attractive about Jeff was that he was always cheerful. I remember with real pleasure a camping trip in the Shenandoahs that my wife and I took with Jeff and Midge and baby Elizabeth. The rest of us enjoyed it as much as we did largely because Jeff was having such a great time. It was only after his death that I realized our camping trip took place only a short time after Jeff learned of his cancer. His limp had begun then, and I asked him about it, but he shrugged it off as being too insignificant for concern.
Jeff must have been very busy, far busier than I ever realized, since he had so much he wanted to do in the little time he had. Yet he was never too busy to be gracious and thoughtful of others, ourselves included.
When my wife and I adopted a Korean orphan, Jeff took a great interest in her. Once, when he and Midge were at an art show, they saw a watercolor illustration of lines from the poem Desiderata, by Max Ehrman. Jeff said that the lines were perfect for our baby, and he and Midge bought the painting and sent it to us. The lines, which I now think may have had greater significance for Jeff than he admitted, were printed on the program for his memorial service.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Thomas E. Woodhouse '62
It was a numbing message. So often the bereaved relative must soothe others in their shock at hearing of the death of a friend, and so it was with Sybil, as I babbled mindlessly that this was terrible news.
Two days later I flew to Houston to attend a large memorial service held for Jeff by his colleagues at the M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute of the Texas Medical Center. By then I knew that Jeff had learned he had cancer seven years ago.
He and Midge moved to Baltimore that year, so that Jeff, who had completed his internship at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis and his residency in pediatrics at Children's Hospital in Boston, could become a Clinical Associate at the National Cancer Institute. In that fact appears his heroic courage and the ultimate tragedy. While he told no except Midge and his own physician of the sentence under which he was condemned to live, Jeff decided to give the rest of his life to fighting the disease by which he must finally be slain.
He proved a formidable contender. In seven years, Jeff acquired an international reputation in the field of cancer chemotherapy. He was responsible for introducing the drugs adriamycin and bleomycin into clinical practice, and also devised combination chemotherapy regimens for treatment of soft tissue sarcomas, incorporating those and conventional drugs. His studies leading to these and other developments in the fields of cancer management and drug research were published in scores of journal articles, chapters in medical treatises, abstracts, and papers. He was also a highly skilled and very popular physician.
Jeff's reputation at the M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute, where he was Head of the Section of Chemotherapy in the Department of Developmental Therapeutics and also Associate Professor of Medicine and Associate Internist, was based on more than his scientific discoveries, however. He was admired for his deep personal concern for his patients, and for the diplomatic ability, also stemming from his concern for other people, by which he was able to make of the brilliant but often headstrong professional staff at the Institute an effective, coherent group.
I knew very little of what I have just written before flying to Houston for Jeff's memorial service. Jeff was not given to self-laudation, and anyway he had so many other interests to talk about.
He was very interested in drama. Jeff was a member of the Masquers at Amherst, and seriously considered becoming a professional actor. Although he chose medicine instead, Jeff kept his love of drama alive by acting with amateur groups, and by collecting and reading plays. I remember that on almost every occasion that I visited Jeff and Midge - occasions that were unfortunately infrequent since I was living outside the country - Jeff excitedly brought out several new books of plays that he had recently acquired.
His colleagues say that his love of drama, and his dramatic skill, were evident in his reading of papers before scientific meetings. Very few others were able to hold an audience in a state of excitement at such readings.
He also loved music. Jeff sang with the Choir and the Glee Club at Amherst, and in Houston he sang with the Houston Symphony Chorale. He had a rich baritone voice, which may in part have accounted for his ability to hold the attention of his medical colleagues. The Houston Symphony Chorale sang, sadly but beautifully, at the memorial service.
While I saw him act and heard him sing, Jeff was not for me any more an actor and a singer than he was a brilliant scientist, physician, and administrator. For me, he was a friend, a good friend since we met as freshmen at Amherst thirteen years ago.
He and Midge joined my wife and me on the first (and final) day of our honeymoon in western Massachusetts. Coming straight from the Amherst reunion of that year, they both wore straw reunion hats with purple and white bands. Looking on the honeymooners, Jeff greeted us by solemnly invoking, "May this be the most unhappy day of the rest of your lives."
It is ironic that what was most attractive about Jeff was that he was always cheerful. I remember with real pleasure a camping trip in the Shenandoahs that my wife and I took with Jeff and Midge and baby Elizabeth. The rest of us enjoyed it as much as we did largely because Jeff was having such a great time. It was only after his death that I realized our camping trip took place only a short time after Jeff learned of his cancer. His limp had begun then, and I asked him about it, but he shrugged it off as being too insignificant for concern.
Jeff must have been very busy, far busier than I ever realized, since he had so much he wanted to do in the little time he had. Yet he was never too busy to be gracious and thoughtful of others, ourselves included.
When my wife and I adopted a Korean orphan, Jeff took a great interest in her. Once, when he and Midge were at an art show, they saw a watercolor illustration of lines from the poem Desiderata, by Max Ehrman. Jeff said that the lines were perfect for our baby, and he and Midge bought the painting and sent it to us. The lines, which I now think may have had greater significance for Jeff than he admitted, were printed on the program for his memorial service.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Thomas E. Woodhouse '62
Harvard Medical Alumni Bulletin - November/December 1975
When Dr. Dontsova of Solzhenitsyn's The Cancer Ward complained to Dr. Oreschchenkov, "It seems unfair that I, an oncologist, should be stricken by an oncologist ailment, when I know every one of them, when I imagine all the attendant effects, the consequences, and the complications," the old man replied, "'There's no injustice here....This is the surest test of a doctor: to suffer an illness in his own specialty.' (...He reasoned thus because he had not been ill himself)."
On July 1, 1975, Jeff Gottlieb, oncologist par excellence, died after a seven year struggle against cancer. Jeff Gottlieb, HMS '66: captain of his high school football team, Eagle Scout, Order of the Arrow, Amherst College Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude, singer and actor of exceptional gifts. Energetic, dynamic, vital, his indefatigable productivity is only faintly reflected by the six scholarly papers submitted for publication during the last thirty days of his life. Nothing was more dramatic than his long battle with malignancy. After his Barnes medical internship and Children's Hospital Medical Center pediatric residency, Jeff went as a senior clinical associate to the National Cancer Institute in 1968.
We knew him to be a superb actor, but never dreamed how good he had to be. For by 1968 he already had cancer. It was the year Elizabeth was born. The next seven years were the miracle of a man who knew how to get the most out of life. He continued to sing - with the Chorales of the Baltimore and Houston Symphonies, and to act - lead roles in O'Neil's Mourning Becomes Electra and Chekhov's The Three Sisters. Keith was born. Jeff and Midge brought a house in Houston. Teaching, research, administration, his own clinical ward of twenty-five patients. A widely respected authority on drug action mechanisms in tumor cell cultures, he pioneered the introduction of adriamycin and bleomycin into clinical practice and successfully designed combination chemotherapy programs for victims of sarcomas, melanomas, and cancers of the thyroid, breast, and head and neck. A major accomplishment was his definition of the precise dosage limits to avoid the cardiotoxic effects of adriamycin (a drug he himself was taking).
Member of fourteen national and international societies and of seven national committees for the study of cancer. Who's Who in Texas. Who's Who in the Southwest. Chief of the solid tumor service of the M.D. Anderson Hospital, Associate professor of medicine at the University of Texas Medical School, Jeff was described by Anderson President Dr. R. Lee Clark as "a young giant in the field of cancer therapy." His professor and chairman, Walter Kirkendall, had written of him: "Many nationally known oncologists...feel that Dr. Gottlieb is the best person in the field of solid tumor therapy in this country." He delivered thirty-seven papers at scientific meetings, the last, in May 1975, typically innovative ("Initial clinical evaluation of piperazindione, a new crystalline antibiotic," in San Diego). Of his ninety-two publications, eighty-nine came after the discovery of his primary malignancy. "His death," said his chief, Dr. Emil Freireich, "is a grave blow to cancer patients around the world."
It is impossible to believe his powerful, clear baritone voice is now still. With these bright memories, the void seems all the more unreal. Jeff's brave and beloved wife Margery, who alone shared the burden of knowledge with him for almost the entire illness, continues to live with their two children at 5231 Lymbar, Houston. Contributions may be sent to the Jeffrey A. Gottlieb Memorial Fund, c/o University of Texas System Cancer Center, M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute, 6723 Bertner, Houston, Texas 77025.
For this man who loved to play Shakespearian summor stock, the Bard left a fitting tribute:
When he shall die
Take him and cut him out in little stars
And he will make the face of heaven
so fine
That all the world will be in love
with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Ned Cassem '66
On July 1, 1975, Jeff Gottlieb, oncologist par excellence, died after a seven year struggle against cancer. Jeff Gottlieb, HMS '66: captain of his high school football team, Eagle Scout, Order of the Arrow, Amherst College Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude, singer and actor of exceptional gifts. Energetic, dynamic, vital, his indefatigable productivity is only faintly reflected by the six scholarly papers submitted for publication during the last thirty days of his life. Nothing was more dramatic than his long battle with malignancy. After his Barnes medical internship and Children's Hospital Medical Center pediatric residency, Jeff went as a senior clinical associate to the National Cancer Institute in 1968.
We knew him to be a superb actor, but never dreamed how good he had to be. For by 1968 he already had cancer. It was the year Elizabeth was born. The next seven years were the miracle of a man who knew how to get the most out of life. He continued to sing - with the Chorales of the Baltimore and Houston Symphonies, and to act - lead roles in O'Neil's Mourning Becomes Electra and Chekhov's The Three Sisters. Keith was born. Jeff and Midge brought a house in Houston. Teaching, research, administration, his own clinical ward of twenty-five patients. A widely respected authority on drug action mechanisms in tumor cell cultures, he pioneered the introduction of adriamycin and bleomycin into clinical practice and successfully designed combination chemotherapy programs for victims of sarcomas, melanomas, and cancers of the thyroid, breast, and head and neck. A major accomplishment was his definition of the precise dosage limits to avoid the cardiotoxic effects of adriamycin (a drug he himself was taking).
Member of fourteen national and international societies and of seven national committees for the study of cancer. Who's Who in Texas. Who's Who in the Southwest. Chief of the solid tumor service of the M.D. Anderson Hospital, Associate professor of medicine at the University of Texas Medical School, Jeff was described by Anderson President Dr. R. Lee Clark as "a young giant in the field of cancer therapy." His professor and chairman, Walter Kirkendall, had written of him: "Many nationally known oncologists...feel that Dr. Gottlieb is the best person in the field of solid tumor therapy in this country." He delivered thirty-seven papers at scientific meetings, the last, in May 1975, typically innovative ("Initial clinical evaluation of piperazindione, a new crystalline antibiotic," in San Diego). Of his ninety-two publications, eighty-nine came after the discovery of his primary malignancy. "His death," said his chief, Dr. Emil Freireich, "is a grave blow to cancer patients around the world."
It is impossible to believe his powerful, clear baritone voice is now still. With these bright memories, the void seems all the more unreal. Jeff's brave and beloved wife Margery, who alone shared the burden of knowledge with him for almost the entire illness, continues to live with their two children at 5231 Lymbar, Houston. Contributions may be sent to the Jeffrey A. Gottlieb Memorial Fund, c/o University of Texas System Cancer Center, M.D. Anderson Hospital and Tumor Institute, 6723 Bertner, Houston, Texas 77025.
For this man who loved to play Shakespearian summor stock, the Bard left a fitting tribute:
When he shall die
Take him and cut him out in little stars
And he will make the face of heaven
so fine
That all the world will be in love
with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Ned Cassem '66
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