It was about 2 a.m. on a Sunday morning in 1939 when the phone rang.

I reluctantly picked up, mumbling to myself that it was most probably Mrs. Wallace Pierce, wife of our current congressman. She had a nefarious habit of calling about that hour, usually with a minor complaint. A 20-minute visit would ensue, following which Mrs. Pierce would say, "I now feel better. Please send me a bill for an office call."

The voice on the other end of the line, however, was instead that of Dr. Jim Reardon, who was completing a year of preceptorship under the aegis of Dr. Robert S. Macdonald, my guru for the previous five years. From 1933 to 1938, I had been his first assistant in general surgery.

Dr. Reardon's sad news was the sudden demise of Dr. Macdonald while enjoying the weekend at the Saint Bernard Club, his fishing camp in Canada. This tragic event, sad and premature as it was, provided me with an unforeseeable opportunity to have a successful life here in Plattsburgh in general surgery. In those days, if one wanted to specialize in surgery, general surgery was the way to go -- that is, to take care of "the skin and its contents."

With this opportunity came the referrals of many of the surgical patients seen by the family physicians of the North Country. Dr. Macdonald had between 15 and 20 physicians from rural areas sending surgical emergencies to him.

The country doctor as a rule would come to the hospital with his patient, provide anesthesia (usually ether), follow the patient's progress while hospitalized and resume full care when the patient was discharged.

An extra perk for me was becoming the Delaware and Hudson Railroad physician. This was a political appointment; Dr. Macdonald, being friendly with the top executives employed by the railroad, had exerted his influence, hoping that I would follow in his footsteps.

Quite a lot of professional bitterness ensued among some of my physician competitors, but the decision to accept me was reluctantly and finally confirmed. Very few safety measures were enacted at the time by the railroad so that the amount of trauma was appreciable.

I enjoyed three years of an overwhelming surgical practice. I had the good fortune of having my brother Gerard move to Plattsburgh, open his own practice and also find the time to assist me even though this meant that he had to leave a successful practice in Tupper Lake.

He, being in the naval reserves, was called into active service shortly following Pearl Harbor, Dec. 7, 1941. I followed suit, volunteering in the early fall of 1942.

The autumn of 1945 brought the end of the war and an opportunity to start anew. My initial worries about success were totally unfounded, and within three months, business was back in full force, full steam ahead.

The doctors who stayed home during the war years certainly did better financially, but my faithful friends came back into my life when hostilities were over.