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Let me tell you about my dad.
Monty Losowsky was born in 1931 in London's East End, the younger child of two undocumented immigrants from Poland. His father traveled alone across Europe, learned several languages, and fought for the British (under his brother's name) in WWI.
Monty Losowsky was born in 1931 in London's East End, the younger child of two undocumented immigrants from Poland. His father traveled alone across Europe, learned several languages, and fought for the British (under his brother's name) in WWI.
My grandmother had no formal education and was her family's breadwinner from the age of 12, working in the front-room sweatshops of East London.
When her husband died suddenly, she was left with two young children, using her Singer sewing machine to keep them alive and fed.
When her husband died suddenly, she was left with two young children, using her Singer sewing machine to keep them alive and fed.
My grandmother never learned to read or write, and put food on the table every single night.
Both my grandparents' stories are incredible, but this is not their story.
Both my grandparents' stories are incredible, but this is not their story.
Growing up in poverty in the Jewish East End, Monty was a compatriot of Harold Pinter, Lionel Bart, Bernard Kops, Steven Berkoff, and Arnold Wesker, among many others who went on to thrive in their industries.
He befriended many of the group known as The Boys – young children brought to England who had survived concentration camps.
Dad caught tuberculosis as a child, and while he was asymptomatic, several years later it meant he was refused National Service, to his great regret.
Dad caught tuberculosis as a child, and while he was asymptomatic, several years later it meant he was refused National Service, to his great regret.
During WWII, the first Doodlebug/V-1 bomb fell at the end of their street (they were in a nearby shelter.)
Their windows were to be frequently blown out by the impact of German bombs. One time, the house next door was entirely destroyed.
Their windows were to be frequently blown out by the impact of German bombs. One time, the house next door was entirely destroyed.
For most of the war, dad and his sister were evacuated to the English countryside, moving homes frequently – during those six years, he attended 14 different secondary schools.
Despite this haphazard education, academically he excelled. As the outstanding student at the Coopers' Company school, he was selected for a formal indentureship as a cooper, following which he was granted the Freedom of the City of London.
When the time came to apply to university, dad wanted to study medicine. He had to turn down several interviews, either because his mother couldn't afford the train fare, or because his education meant he lacked the required qualifications.
He was especially interested in @LeedsMedHealth, but knew he had to refuse an interview because of its location. And then his mother handed him a train ticket to Leeds, so that he could try for a place. He never found out how she managed to scrape together the funds.
He was accepted, and after graduation specialized in gastroenterology. He stayed to work in Leeds for a few years, then moved to Paris, to work at St Antoine Hospital. After this, he went to Harvard Medical School, where he was surrounded by Nobel Prizewinners.
Dad was highly sought after by several American hospitals – Chicago even tracked him down while on holiday to offer him a blank cheque and his own department.
But he could not stomach the inequities of the American healthcare system, and so he returned to Leeds.
But he could not stomach the inequities of the American healthcare system, and so he returned to Leeds.
In the early 1960s, dad was offered a position at the Leeds Infirmary, but to his colleagues' chagrin, he chose instead its far less prestigious sibling, St James's Hospital, a former workhouse in a deprived part of the city.
His goal was to establish it as a serious teaching hospital. Thanks in part to him, St James's became the largest teaching hospital in Europe, and the subject of the long-running British TV series "Jimmy's", on which he occasionally appeared.
Dad cared deeply about his patients. He would often travel into the wards on weekends and at Christmas, including taking care of patients with private health insurance who were receiving substandard care over the holiday period. (He always refused payment.)
Another passion was research. His work was essential in the discovery of blood factor XIII, and he made many important contributions to liver and stomach research. He was instrumental in the founding of one of the the world's first patient-run advocacy groups, @Coeliac_UK.
In 1989, the Vice Chancellor of Leeds University invited him to become dean of the schools of medicine and dentistry – a position that, while sounding prestigious, had the potential to be a poisoned chalice, and my father knew it.
The Medical School where he had studied had become one of the most expensive in the country, and its academic results were among the worst.
He demurred several times, until the Vice Chancellor found his weakness: "It is your duty to do this," he told dad. And so dad accepted.
He demurred several times, until the Vice Chancellor found his weakness: "It is your duty to do this," he told dad. And so dad accepted.
At the end of his five years in the position, he had solidified the school as solidly in the middle of both tables, and on the path to further improvement, one of his proudest achievements.
Dad loved teaching and education, and as his medical career was winding down, he helped found the @thackraymuseum in a disused building on St James's campus.
Dad thrived on committees and board meetings, and he always pre-read all of the papers and minutes. He was a Fellow of @RCPLondon, a member of the @gmcuk, the President of @BritSocGastro, and chairman of both @LiverTrust and @Coeliac_UK among many others.
In 1989, he was in charge of TV personality Russell Harty's treatment. He appeared regularly on news bulletins, and befriended the playwright Alan Bennett. He also learned how much tabloid journalists were prepared to lie to get information from him (they never succeeded.)
Due to NHS age restrictions, Dad retired in 1996, and then traveled to Australia to advise a medical school in Brisbane. He returned to Leeds to run monthly medical history lectures at the museum he helped create. He was given The Leeds Award, one of the city's highest honours.
Dad loved cricket, DIY, travel, and his wife, Barbara – my mother – dearly, though he rarely felt comfortable showing affection. He was always proud of my sister and I, and never tried to push us into anything we didn't want to do.
He was modest, humble, and unfailingly kind.
He was modest, humble, and unfailingly kind.
My dad, Monty Losowsky died on Friday.
He died at St James's Hospital, the place where he spent nearly 40 years of his career, helping save countless lives as part of his beloved NHS.
He was 88 years old. I miss him.
He died at St James's Hospital, the place where he spent nearly 40 years of his career, helping save countless lives as part of his beloved NHS.
He was 88 years old. I miss him.
