hen 18-year-old Dorothy Brinsfield interviewed with Emory School of Medicine in 1944, Dean Russell Oppenheimer felt the need to test her resolve. The world was still getting used to the idea that women would pursue and excel in a profession as demanding as medicine. He guaranteed her admission, but on condition that she wait till she was 21 (even though it was fairly common at the time for male students to be accepted as young as 15). She decided not to wait and gained admission to Medical College of Georgia instead. But she eventually returned to Emory, her accomplishments, dedication, and personal sacrifice on behalf of medicine and this medical school rivaling those of Dean Oppenheimer himself.

Dottie Brinsfield, whom many of you remember from her 16 years as dean of students, died in March, at 75 -- still young and still active on the Medical Alumni Board (see class note). She not only reached her lifelong dream of becoming a doctor, but she also helped pioneer pediatric cardiology when the specialty was in its infancy, and she served as a role model for hundreds of aspiring physicians, women and men alike.

Ironically, women make up exactly half of our first-year class this year, the highest number (56) ever admitted. We didn't specifically aim for this number, but we're very pleased by it, and we know Dottie was too.

The first-year class has other distinguishing characteristics as well: the highest-ever percentage (19%) of "under-represented" minorities (as classified by the Association of American Medical Colleges), with a total of 35% non-Caucasians. Moreover, this class's mean MCAT scores and GPAs (10.4 and 3.75, respectively) were both all-time highs.

High test scores - before, during, and after medical school - are what we've long come to expect at Emory, a legacy you, our alumni, helped create. There's a big difference, of course, between producing a crop of good test-takers as opposed to good doctors. And we aim to get, and keep getting, the latter.

Sometimes it takes a loss to make us stop and appreciate those who have gone before, without whose hard work and steadfast spirit we wouldn't have the bragging rights to which we've come to feel entitled. In many ways, although generations apart, they were a lot alike -- Dottie Brinsfield and Russell Oppenheimer. He was known legendarily as the "one-man medical school" for his back-breaking load as dean, professor, chair of medicine, and medical director of Emory Hospital. Both were determined to build a reputation, against some considerable odds, and in so doing, both earned deep, abiding respect, not just for themselves, but for Emory, and for the students who pass through its doors. May this spirit long continue.

Sincerely,

Thomas J. Lawley
Dean