William H.B. Howard, M.D., the longtime medical director and co-founder of MedStar Union Memorial’s Sports Medicine Clinic, passed away on January 10, 2016 at the age of 81.
An incredibly respected Renaissance man who once brought a dog to the OR in a shopping cart, Bill Howard possessed a deep sense of self and of the important things in life.
Survivors include his wife of 62 years, and four daughters: Anne Dechter of Washington, D.C.; Patti Fenwick of Reisterstown; Kate Perri of Wilna; Tarry McGuirk of Bel Air; a sister, Frances Flatau, also of Wilna; and 14 grandchildren.
A funeral was held on January 15, 2016 at Olney Farm, 1001 Old Joppa Road.
Dr. Howard entered the world at Union Memorial Hospital, and several years later began his education in a one-room schoolhouse. He then attended Duke University, and followed that up with a bachelor’s degree from the Johns Hopkins University. He was a 1963 graduate of the University of Maryland School of Medicine.
He did his residency in general surgery and orthopedics at Harrisburg Hospital in Pennsylvania and returned to Baltimore, where he ran the emergency room at what is now MedStar Union Memorial Hospital (UMH).
Sensing a profound need for dedicated treatment for athletes, Dr. Howard worked with Drs. Joe Martire, a radiologist, and Roger Michael, then chief of orthopedics, to open a sports medicine clinic. It began in 1979.
Stuart B. Bell, M.D., vice president, Medical Affairs and CMO of MedStar Union Memorial Hospital, said of Dr. Howard in an email:
“Most of you knew and worked with Bill Howard, who suddenly passed away, reportedly near his beloved pick up truck, two days ago. This was a shocker, and a surprise, since he was such vital and energetic person, who always appeared and acted many years younger than his chronological age.”
“We all have vivid memories of him. He brought me mint juleps with mint from his farm in 1980, as post op pain relief for the hernia he had just fixed for me. That was the time when you stayed overnight in the hospital for such surgery, and could drink a little bourbon in house also.”
“He was a teacher, friend, clinician, athlete, intellectual, innovator, husband, father, grandfather, and drinking companion, amongst other things.”
“He was certainly the face of UMH for at least 40 years, an iconic figure, though he was someone who would scoff at the idea of his iconography.”
“He founded the critical program in UMH development, our Sports Medicine program, based on an idea he had (and he had many) derived from his work running our ED, where he would see athletes from Memorial stadium, down the street, for sports injuries. Our sports medicine programs, those of MedStar, and to some extent, our successful orthopaedic programs, are a direct result of his founding efforts.”
“He was also a deeply caring physician, in the best, and most complete definition of that role and word. He lived it his entire life, and though a surgeon, he knew much about everything, and we all benefited from his knowledge and personality.”
“He taught many of our clinicians, students, nurses, doctors, and also the public at large in his media persona. He reached many in his time here.”
“Anyone who knew him, learned something from him, and usually a lot from him. And he was just fun to be around. Thank you Bill, for all you gave to us over your multifaceted and thoroughly, completely lived life.”
Anne Dechter is one of Bill Howard’s four daughters. Asked about a really fun memory of her dad, she noted, “Daddy absolutely lived for the good story. There’s a good one about the time Daddy sneaked a patient’s dog into the OR at Union Memorial (in a shopping cart, of course) and successfully removed a large tumor that the owner had been told was inoperable.”
As for how he serves as a role model for her, Dechter said, “Daddy was always, always learning. He never stopped. He just drank up information—from books, the newspaper, the radio, academic papers, other people. And he was passionate about his work. He worked so hard, but I don’t think he’d ever consider it ‘work.’ He did what he loved to do every day. I’ve tried hard to be like him in those ways—to be a perpetual student, a hard worker—and if I’ve been at all successful, it’s because I had him as a model.”
“I think Daddy would want to be remembered as a hard-working, salt-of-the-earth doctor who did everything in his power to help his patients and friends—whether that was patching up a busted knee so you could play in the next game, talking up a young player to a talent scout, or offering a place to stay to someone in a tough spot. He had zero regard for the rules, especially bureaucratic B.S. that he thought interfered with patient care. I think he’d also like to be remembered for knowing at least a little something about everything—and because he was so incredibly well-read with an excellent memory, he tended to know a lot about everything. His bookshelf is filled with a motley assortment of books—on sports, war, science, language, fiction, music, history, etc.”
When Tarry McGuirk talks about her dad, the love and respect shine through. She says, “First and foremost, I want to thank all the family and friends that have reached out to me via email, text, phone calls, voice messages, and Facebook. I truly feel the positive energy and support you are sending and I have never felt so blessed. Thank you.”
“Next, and WAY harder, I need to thank my dad. I have read so many tributes to him, all so accurate and yet all different. He was a complicated, brilliant, brutally honest, straight forward, horrendously funny man and, yet just a simple down home guy. He was the prominent, well-known, amazing physician who only aspired to be a redneck (and I say that with only love and respect).”
“He was multifaceted, indescribable with simple words, he was larger than life. He was called and known by many different nicknames during his reign here on earth. Doc Howard, Ole Buzzard, Hack Howard (in reference to his prowess in the operating room) Dogbreath (need I explain?), Roadrunner, (he gave himself this one obviously. His running form and speed was NOTHING like a roadrunner!) Bill, William (often said with exasperated tones by his mother and wife when he was especially ornery). There are others, often said on the rugby field that, I as a lady (no laughing, Daddy) cannot repeat. But my personal favorite name he was called was Daddy.”
“I look back at all his gifts with overwhelming love but am choosing one that I feel was one of the greatest gifts he gave me and to those who met him. He gave himself, the REAL Bill Howard to all.”
“Everybody says my dad was a hardworking man. I believed that growing up. As I looked beyond the long hours, the immeasurable energy, the dedication to his many patients, I realized it was way more than that. He was the prime example of someone living his passion. He never considered what he did as work. He lived it, he was meant for it, he loved it and boy did it show! He was one of the few remaining doctors who cared, who listened and understood people. He connected. He never bought into the hype and finery of being a famous physician.” Daddy ignored, well more like bucked, the big medicine politics and the monetary rules of the typical sterile hospitals and made Union Memorial a warm and welcoming haven. He exemplified the old style doctor who told you like it was. ‘Quit being a wuss, and walk it off.’ I’d say he was right 99% of the time.”
“I thank you, Daddy, for inspiring me to recognize what is really important. Not the fluff and the finery that cover most people’s true selves. Be genuine, be true to who you are, and do what you love. I will forever miss you but carry you always in me.”
