My mind made up, I left Duke in 1937 to go home to start a private practice in general internal medicine. Home was a comfortable and well-built three-story brick house in the Wakefield section of the Bronx in what was then a white, middle class, largely Catholic neighborhood. There were three apartments, three rooms on the ground floor and the middle floor of six rooms with the top floor of seven rooms. Our family occupied the middle floor while the other two were rented to reliable tenants, providing income that helped to pay off a first and second mortgage. A few hundred feet away on Bronxwood Avenue the partially completed Our Lady of Grace Roman Catholic Church, presided over by Father Bassi, an Italian priest, enhanced our neighborhood, and our family were communicants. Especially for my mother, the church was a very important part of life. She attended Mass every morning until years later, when her terminal illness incapacitated her. Then one of the priests would come to our home regularly to give his blessing. Pop was a fairly typical Italian Catholic who went to church for funerals, baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and little else, but was staunch in his allegiance. As I look back, we grew up as a family that was quite ecumenical and respected all of the great faiths and did not feel that any one religion was the sole keeper of the keys to Heaven. Our friends included not only Roman Catholics but Protestants of many sects, Jews, and an occasional Seventh Day Adventist. We respected them and they in turn, respected us.

Starting a medical practice in 1937 in the midst of a severe depression that was becoming worse rather than better, was enough to scare off all but the bravest and toughest and those without any other options. In those days, anyone who became a doctor to get rich should have first seen a psychiatrist. Doctors’ incomes were at the bottom of the scale of any of the professions except the priesthood or the ministry. Many doctors were relying on sidelines to pay their bills. Some were driving taxicabs. Others were being supported by their families or spouses. In the great cities, especially New York, hordes of displaced Jewish refugee doctors were competing for patients and struggling to make both ends meet. House calls were the mainstay of cash flow and income.