Barry George Firkin, (3/8/1930 - 12/1/2001),
Emeritus Professor of Medicine, Monash University.
Barry Firkin was Professor of Medicine at Monash University from 1969 to 1995, when he was appointed Emeritus Professor of Medicine. Sometimes called 'The Father of Modern Australian Haematology', the sort of corny epithet that embarrassed and delighted him, he made a lasting contribution to Australian and world medicine both by his own, original research, and by the generations of medical researchers he trained, encouraged, and inspired.
Barry was born in Newcastle, NSW, in 1930. He was encouraged by his mother, Mira, to forsake the family scrap metal business and he chose to study medicine at the University of Sydney. He graduated in 1954, and married Ruth Mullens the same year.
A good, but unremarkable undergraduate student, his potential was first recognised by Alan McGuiness who recommended he train with Ruthven Blackburn at the Clinical Research Unit at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, where his interest in clinical haematology and bleeding disorders was first awakened.
In 1958 he took his young family to St. Louis, USA, to continue his training and research with Carl Moore and Bill Harrington at Washington University. His experience in St. Louis set his life's course. He loved the excitement of working with some of the best researchers in the world and never lost his admiration for the energy and self-sacrificing dedication that Americans applied to medical research. Many of the friendships formed at 'Wash U' were to last his lifetime.
In 1961, he returned to Sydney to become Director of the Clinical Research Unit. He was dismayed at the state of Australian medical research and was determined that his unit would be of international standard. He gathered a talented group of young researchers around him and sought to apply the same principles of innovation and hard work that he had observed in St. Louis. He was the driving force, with Jim McRae and Alan Skyring, in establishing the Australian Society of Medical Research, of which he was the first president in 1961. Barry was also greatly respected as a clinician. Indeed, he never lost his belief in clinical research, insisting that the patient should always remain the focus of medical research. He made headlines in 1967 when he performed the first bone marrow transplant in Australia, one of the very first, successful bone marrow transplants in the world.
In 1969, Barry moved to Melbourne, joining Monash University as head of the Department of Medicine at the Alfred Hospital, where he continued his research into the mechanisms and treatment of thrombotic and bleeding disorders, teaching , and treating patients with haematological problems. In the course of his academic career, he published over 120 papers in international and Australian journals, as well as contributing to and writing books on blood disorders and medical history. Although he gave unstintingly of his time for his students, colleagues, and his patients, he would always regret that administrative duties—tasks for which he was spectacularly unsuited—robbed him of time 'at the bench'.
Barry acquired many honours in his lifetime, including the Sir Arthur Sims Travelling Professorship in 1972, and the John Sands Medal, the Royal Australasian College of Physicians Award for Outstanding Service in 1988. He was made a life member of the Australian Society for Medical Research in 1988 and the Australasian Society of Thrombosis and Haemostasis in 1995. He sat on the editorial boards of many academic journals, both international and Australian, and was active in many medical and haematological societies. He was Censor and Councillor of the Royal Australasian College of Physicians from 1970 to 1982, and was Chairman of the Medical Committee of the Anti Cancer Council of Australia and the Ethics Committee of the Australian Red Cross.
All his life, Barry was a staunch advocate of Australian medical research, but he loathed any form of parochialism. He remained a committed internationalist in his belief that Australian medical research should never be scared of measuring itself against the best in the world, and should recognise where it was behind in order to move ahead.
Barry Firkin's contribution to Australian medicine will be measured not only on his own outstanding research, but by the work of those he trained and encouraged. He was generous towards his academic colleagues and always tried to give credit where it was due. This was an innate facet of his character, but was also in part his way of acknowledging and repaying the generosity and disinterested encouragement he received as a young man from some of the great figures of American medicine.
Barry's major achievements include description of the splenic platelet pool 1963, the performance of the first bone marrow transplant in Australia on identical twins for aplastic anaemia in 1967, the description of a variant of orotic aciduria, the discovery of ristocetin as a diagnostic agent for platelet disorders and in von Willebrand disease (with Margaret Howard) and the description of the first case of VWD variant type B. He died of leukaemia, an irony he accepted with composure, drawing strength from the support and love of his family and friends. He is survived by his wife, Ruth, whose love and sacrifice and genius for organisation he openly acknowledged as the key to his success, by his four children and six grandchildren, and, remarkably, even by a few of his patients.
Despite the enormous time he devoted to Medicine, and the pursuit of research, Barry never neglected his growing family, making sure that every year he dedicated a holiday alone with them. He inspired his children, as he was inspired by the love and devotion of his wife Ruth. Once away from work, he could relax playing golf, sailing, or following whichever sport was being broadcast and played. His love of literature was a lifetime adventure, and he often dreamed of writing more than medical text.
On January 12 2001, after a long steady decline with illness, my father died peacefully. Not until 3 days earlier had I seen the life go from his eyes, a life which was blessed with fine achievements, friends and family, and a four decade marriage. You can see that life spark even at the last Christmas we spent together, in the first image below. Here only 3 weeks before he died, Dad watched the family gather for the last time. He knew it and so did we. Goodbye Dad. I was inspired by you, supported by you and I loved you dearly. I already miss you.
Than sit at home and wait for the world to change you.
Wednesday January 17 2001
The commitment service was simple. It began with a taped hymn, there were simple consoling words from the Minister George, the rousing (if poorly recorded) music of Beethoven, prayers and some more music, before we left the chapel. I could not leave. I wanted to stand beside him for a few minutes. I wanted to record an image of his coffin, topped with a beautiful array of Australian flowers, a single rose from Kiltarlity and the family images from “Gerry-day” just over a year ago. Tears had tracked down my cheeks during the service but they were gentle, and helped by holding Rosie’s hand, now the grief of the day became overwhelming and I began to sob. I was joined by Anna, Helen and then Howard. I wanted to be alone, but when Howard came up, I wanted to join him, but I felt he wanted to be alone and I sobbed on. I wanted to stay, I wanted to say or do something, but all I could do was cry.
A few minutes later we were out in the sunshine, and preparing to leave for the Memorial service. We arrived and there was a large gathering of people outside the Religious Centre. Some had come as friends of the children, friends of my mother, and family friends, but of course most were colleagues, students, work friends and admirers. I was so grateful to Leon, Fergus and MA for sharing the services and standing there to witness the moment. I was pleased to have so many at the service, given the short notice provided.
George gave a similar service to the one we had just attended -- this allowed me to remain less emotional, as I'd been through it before. Peter Casteldi then gave a personal and moving summary of Dad and his life, but the atmosphere and service was one of a memorial to a dedicated Medical researcher and physician. Howard had decided to say something. I had been wrestling with the same issues. He was focused on saying something about Dad as a person and a family man, and I wanted to thank those who were here, and those who were unable to make it.
We stood up at the end of the service and Howard offered to let me go first -- no way. He stood before the gathering and said that the audience was filled with Medicos, that the day was filled with a celebration of the physician, but that the man was more than that, and that none of that was important to the family he now left behind. He was a husband to our mother and a father to us four, then he stumbled -- I knew he wanted to say the finest grandfather to his children, and there was a very slight laugh. Was Howard seeing the same thing I was now seeing? Dad the awkward Granddad, holding each new born grandchild in his huge hands filled with love and uncertain of his way. It was a picture of sheer delight for me as I realized that it would have been the same way when I was born. Howard then came out with “grandfather” and as the emotion had swollen, so I tucked it back away. I would not be able to say a word otherwise. He finished, I drew breath and thanked everyone who was here, apologised to those who might have liked to have been here, but for the short notice, supported the words of my brother and moved back to sit beside Janet. I had wanted to record my inspiration, my friend and my father, but I would have to be happy to do that in my heart, and here on this page.