Tuskegee's Dean Ruby Perry on Leadership

In honor of African-American History Month

By Donald F. Smith, Cornell University

Ruby Perry DVM, MS, DACVR is Interim Dean of

Tuskegee University College of Veterinary Medicine, Nursing and Allied Health

In a blog recently posted on this site(1), I described the five veterinary college deans who had graduated from Tuskegee University during the 1970s, and questioned what motivated such an impressive number to pursue positions in academic leadership.

Interim Dean Ruby Perry (Tuskegee 1977), a board-certified radiologist who spent her career at Tuskegee and Michigan State University, graciously allowed me to share her personal story. “I can’t tell it myself,” she explained, “because it’s too intensely personal, but perhaps you can write it for me. It’s a story that should be told and maybe it will help someone pursue a leadership position.” 

Ruby Perry, DVM, MS, DACVR

Interim Dean, College of Veterinary Medicine, Nursing and Applied Health

Tuskegee University

(Photo by Tuskegee University)

Dean Perry acknowledged that many factors framed her personal and professional life.  “My journey involved risks," she said, and acknowledged with much gratitude her mother's admonition to seize the moment whenever it presented itself.  “Because you are Black,” her mother told her when she was in high school, “and because you are growing up in rural Mississippi in this civil rights era, you will only get an opportunity once.  Don’t let it pass you by.” Dean Perry elaborated,

I grew up in the Deep South in the small Mississippi town called Tougaloo, right across the street from a historically Black college by the same name. The college served as the base for gatherings and meetings of civil rights leaders visiting her area. The local community, of which my mother was a prominent member, provided refuge and food for the leaders, and supported their plans and their strategies to advance desegregation.

Though still a young girl, Ruby witnessed her mother’s passion and her unrelenting commitment to use the gifts and abilities that she had been given to help the cause. By her words and actions, Ruby’s mother indirectly “charted my life” by pushing her to take a leap of faith to make a difference toward the common good.

As the middle child of five, Ruby felt “boxed-in,” and that perhaps pushed her toward developing a spirit of independence. Though her siblings received the same opportunities for an education, Ruby’s mother perceived that she was different. She was highly inquisitive by nature and she had a desire to explore the world and its opportunities. Ruby’s mother encouraged her, putting her in a typing class that eventually helped her through college. Though Ruby would have preferred playing basketball like other children, “I got cut in the first round anyway”, so my mother’s decision turned out to be a fortuitous decision.

The defining event in Ruby’s teenage life was becoming one of the students chosen by her mother and other community leaders, in collaboration with local Civil Rights leaders, to officially desegregate the high school adjacent to the neighborhood where she lived. “I was pulled from my African American high school in Jackson, Mississippi, to be one of five African American students to enter the 10^th grade in an all-white high school.”

Though the five students were unwelcome and had no social interaction with their white classmates, they all survived to graduation. There continued to be no association with the school whatsoever when they were unexpectedly invited to their 40th class reunion. Two of the five had died and a third could not be located.  Only Dr. Perry and one other former student attended what turned out to be an emotional conclusion to an untenable 40-year estrangement.

Many of my classmates remembered what we had endured and came up to us and apologized. The former school principal was even there and he made a special effort to meet with us to talk about those three years at his high school during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. He also expressed remorse for how we had been treated by him and by others on his watch. The choir director, who had refused to allow us to join the school choir when we were in high school, invited us to sing in the Class Reunion Choir.  It was an extraordinary event.

           

Dr. Perry cited two other principal factors in her passion for leadership: mentors and friends. She ascribes to the notion that a circle of mentors is essential to an individual’s growth and development.  “I have many mentors who have not only motivated me, but provided guidance and afforded opportunities along my career journey”. She feels fortunate to continue to have a mentorship circle of those who believe in her and encourage her to be the agent of change for which she has the capacity, desire and interest. She singled out for special gratitude the women veterinary deans whom she had met at the recent deans’ meeting in Naples and to whom she felt a special kinship during their van drive from Naples to Orlando. In another dimension, she talked about the African American veterinary deans whose willingness to share their experiences and keep in touch with her means so much. 

Finally, Dean Perry recognizes the importance of true friends. “Though persons in this group are few,” she acknowledges, “they are long-lasting supporters.” In her development as a leader, friends who have helped her improve her self-awareness by giving honest and direct feedback without being judgmental, have been critical to her success.  

During a workshop on Women's Leadership I co-presented recently at St. George's University in Grenada, I described Dean Perry's admonition to seize opportunities and not let them pass by. Sitting in the front row was Dr. Annie Corrigan, a member of the faculty, who almost leapt from her seat as the picture of Dean Perry flashed on the screen.  Without hesitation, she turned to the assembled students in the rows behind her and told them how the former section chief of radiology at Michigan State University--Dr. Perry had spent 17 years at MSU--had mentored her years before. 

Mentee and mentor, receiving and giving, throughout her career.  Dean Ruby Perry has been more wave than ripple in the ever-expanding circle of mentoring and leadership.

1.  Smith, Donald F. Five Tuskegee University Veterinary Graduates from the 1970s Become Deans. www.veterinarylegacy.blogspot.com, January 15, 2015.

A Veterinary Student Interviews a Veterinarian Astronaut, Dr. Rick Linnehan

Guest author:  Aziza N. Glass, Cornell DVM Class of 2015

Editor’s Note: As a class project, third-year Cornell DVM student, Aziza Glass, interviewed one of the only two veterinary astronauts in history. Before coming to Cornell, Aziza graduated from one of the earliest and most historically-important public colleges in the state of Texas, Prairie View A&M University. I chose her paper because of its connection to One Health and because Aziza demonstrated that even prestigious and time-challenged veterinarians will almost always take time to talk to an interested student.

Donald F. Smith

As a veterinary medical student, I appreciate comparative medicine and the promotion of animal health and well-being. As a research scientist, I appreciate the scientific method and the process of creating new knowledge. Recently, I was able to combine both of my passions by attending the National Space Biomedical Research Institute Apprenticeship at NASA’s Johnson Space Center.  While participating in the program, I became aware of the fact that veterinarians had been to space. One in particular was of interest to me.

Author Aziza Glass, Cornell University DVM Candidate

(Photo by Julie Kumble during Women’s Leadership Symposium, Cornell University 2014)

Rick Linnehan graduated from The Ohio State University College of Veterinary Medicine in 1985. He entered private practice, and then completed a joint internship at the Baltimore Zoo and Johns Hopkins University in zoo medicine and comparative pathology. In 1988, he entered the US Army Veterinary Corps and was appointed the chief clinical veterinarian and Officer in Charge for the Navy’s Marine Mammal Program. He completed the Army Medical Department (AMEDD) training at Fort Sam Houston. Four years later, Linnehan was accepted by the National Space and Aeronautics Administration (NASA) and began a year-long training program as an Astronaut Candidate (ASCAN) working with flight software, payload development, and flight support in preparation for future assignments as a mission specialist aboard the space shuttle. Although he is not training for missions these days, Dr. Linnehan has flown into space four times, logging 58 days and six space walks.

Dr. Linnehan during one of his several Extra-Vehicular Activities (space walks).
(Photo by NASA)

Contacting an astronaut is a big deal, and being able to get on his schedule for a class assignment is practically a long shot. However, something told me to go for it, and I did. Countless emails later I finally got a response. Anxious would be the best way to describe my mindset as I called Dr. Linnehan (yes, it was on his cell). I immediately relaxed as he answered the phone and introduced himself and proceeded with small talk.

Taking a deep breath I moved forward with my first question: “What was your easiest transition from veterinarian to astronaut.”

It’s best not to categorize the transition as easy or hard. It was on a whole different level. You’re being stretched to the limit, learning new things that a veterinarian would never normally have to learn. Essentially the training was massive memorization—sometimes mind numbing—training your mind to recall and operate almost automatically, something akin to “muscle memory.” You’re trained to respond, immediately and operationally, to real time emergencies that literally can be life or death if not acted on correctly and with alacrity. It’s a new level of learning that’s in a category all to itself.

Though Dr. Linnehan had many mentors during his veterinary career, he went through the
“pressure cooker” of the astronaut corps training like everyone else, including mission specialists and pilots alike. “It’s easy to give up when things get hard. I was constantly told you couldn’t do this or that. But you have to learn not to write yourself off too quickly. Be somewhat stubborn. Stick to it. Sometimes just being the last person standing means you win.”

I told him, “My Dad says, ‘Sometimes you gotta win ugly, but it’s still a win.’” He replied, “…Tell your Dad he’s a smart man.” “Thanks, I will” I said.

Dr. Linnehan’s background as a veterinarian taught him to rapidly identify and diagnose apparent programs, follow correct procedures, and to “fix things.”  He reminded me that the veterinary mindset and training prepares you by spanning multiple species, differing physiologic facets and diagnostic regimes. “Vets are already extremely well-prepared for being astronauts by how we are taught to operationally think—and take action.”

When I inquired how he has been able to use his platform to advance the field of veterinary medicine, Dr. Linnehan responded that he has not been able to do as much as he would have liked. Then he became candid, saying that part of the reason is that the veterinary medicine status quo has become refractory to change.

We have to get away from the mindset that the practice of “traditional” veterinary medicine is bounded. Historic perceptions of what and who we are as a profession must change, and this “expansion” must start at the veterinary colleges and also with the public health sector.

The One Health global veterinary initiative must be given more than lip service and embraced as the next stage in the evolution of the veterinary profession as we enter the new millennium. Currently veterinarians are under-represented and under-utilized and are not in the necessary leadership roles we are best suited for—of any of the health professions—in the complex and critically-important global health forum. We, as a profession, are the ideal people to guide these conversations and enact positive public health change and quality of life benefits for all species that share the planet.

My goal is to find a way for veterinary schools to expand from the classical mindset and include the global One Health Initiative as a crucial part of veterinary theory, education and practice skills sets. Emerging Infectious Diseases (EIDs)/zoonoses, conservation and sustainability, agriculture/mariculture, toxicology, genomics, public health, etc.; veterinarians are better trained and possess the diagnostic armamentarium to handle these vanguard issues. We have the potential to redefine the perception and definition of what it means to be a veterinarian. We need to be at the top of the global health infrastructure pyramid to perturb how the private and public sectors perceive our value as veterinarians.

Being the only veterinarian in the astronaut corps, it was difficult for other more traditional astronaut recruits to understand why a veterinarian was there.  For that matter, it was equally as confusing for some members of my own profession to grasp why I wanted to become an astronaut. For the most part, I had to give up my clinical life and passion for exotic/marine veterinary medicine in order to do it. But, it was important to prove what veterinarians could do it and how well prepared they are to delve into any presumable untraditional field and succeed.

To round out the interview, as well as satisfy my own curiosity, I asked Dr. Linnehan which one animal he would most like to take with him on his next space flight, and why.  “I think it would be the dolphin,” he answered.

Cetaceans evolved and live their entire lives in neutral buoyancy, and that’s the closest thing on the planet in terms of emulating the microgravity environment of space. In fact, we do our Extra Vehicular Activities task training in a giant water pool called the Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory to simulate the microgravity of space with all its difficulties in adapting and working in a space suit outside the space shuttle or International Space Station. It would be interesting to see how quickly dolphins adapt to the space environment as compared to land mammals – us.  Actually, a great si-fi novel, “Startide Rising” by David Brin, posed the same question, and it’s stuck with me ever since. Yeah, I’d take a dolphin.

After he answered my last question, I grinned from ear to ear. This had been awesome.  I’m most grateful for Dr. Linnehan’s candidness and honesty. I thanked him for the interview, and he congratulated me on making it to my third year of vet school. His advice? “Enjoy it.”

Then he left me with this tidbit. “You know, I always wanted to go to Cornell, but I didn’t get in. I grew up in the New England area, and we had only one New Hampshire contract available. So I’m sort of jealous right now.”

Yeah, this had to be the highlight of my week.

Dr. Smith welcomes comments at dfs6@cornell.edu

This blog is also available at www.veritasdvmblog.com

Learning Surgery from a Master Musician

By Donald F. Smith, Cornell University
Posted February 9, 2014

Glenn Gould was a household name while I was growing up in Ontario. A child prodigy classical pianist, he was well-known throughout Canada while still a teenager. When he arrived in New York City in 1955 in his early twenties and recorded the previously obscure Goldberg Variations (Bach, 1741), he became an overnight sensation and from that moment onward, was recognized one of the greatest classical musicians of the 20th century.

Gould was 17 years my senior, and besides a love of music, I had little in common with him except perhaps the desire to seek refuge in nature. As a young child, I aspired to be a pianist myself, but I realized by the age of eleven that it was well beyond my reach. I nonetheless continued to follow Gould's career closely. Though I didn't realize it at the time, his understanding and interpretation of J.S. Bach, especially the contrapuntal form, and his ability to perform it in ways that were unique, unusually creative, and breathtakingly masterful, was to have an enormous impact on my professional career.

More than any other person, Gould's recorded performances taught me more about the art of surgical technique (I would become a boarded surgeon), and later how to lead a college as dean. Though I never met him, Glenn Gould would become my most important mentor. To this day, I return to his music episodically, sometimes listening to recordings over and over again.

Among the tributes at his death in 1982--he was just fifty years old when he suffered a fatal stroke--is one that I always thought personally relevant. It was that of a heart surgeon in London, who "made it a practice to operate only after he and his patient had both listened to Gould recordings." (Otto Friedrich, Glenn Gould, 1989)

What is it with Glenn Gould, the man whose interpretation of Bach was selected to be placed on the Voyager spacecraft in 1977 so that potential forms of life some 500,000 years from now could understand life on earth?

In this blog, I describe what I consider to the relevance to surgical technique.

Photo from the back cover of Glenn Gould. A Life and Variations,
by Otto Friedrich, Random House, NY 1989
(Photo by the author)

If you watch recordings of Gould perform pieces like the Goldberg Variations, you are struck by the independent power of each of his fingers.You immediately are overwhelmed by the strength, the power, and clarity of sound that is generated by the normally weak fourth and fifth fingers of the non-dominant hand (the left, for him and most of us). His childhood friend, and later a woman whom he loved and who loved him, talked about how the strength of his "weak" fingers was simply amazing, yielding a powerful and fully-united force in all of his fingers.

Second, you note the independence of his fingers, each working dynamically as a completely separate machine, yet creating a horizontal energy that produces a linear flow of music. In his later years, Gould commented upon Bach's ability to combine the linear contrapuntal flow that looks back to the Baroque period, with the horizontal harmonic sound of the coming romantic era. More on that in a subsequent story of how Gould's interpretations formed the basis for my administrative style as dean.

Finally, you notice that the position of his seat, several inches closer to the floor than the average pianist, forces his elbows into an acute angle and his hands appear like claws hanging over the keyboard. As unkempt as the appearance is to the first-time observer, what this position demonstrates is the strength of the hands and fingers, whether working separately or together.

These strengths, and the independence and codependence of the fingers, didn't just happen. As a teenager, Gould would routinely practice with his mentor, Alberto Guerreo, late into the night, often past two or three in the morning. His was an amazing example of the love and interpretation of musical sound, coupled with the development of manual dexterity at the highest level.

The best surgical trainees, whether in human or veterinary medicine, spend several years mastering operative technique and manual dexterity at the side of master surgeons. A sinlge hour watching Gould playing Bach would be a wonderful supplement.

One hundred hours could very well change your life, and in more ways than surgical technique. It did mine.

Dr. Smith welcomes comments at dfs6@cornell.edu