Lives of Service

The Baltimore Sun, published March 30, 2013 | By Frederick N. Rasmussen

Dr. Lorenz E. and Anastasia U. Zimmerman

Ophthalmic pathologist and nurse had met during service in Army 

Dr. Lorenz E. Zimmerman, the founder of modern ophthalmic pathology, who spent his nearly 60-year career studying diseases of the eye, died March 16 of complications from an infection at the Blakehurst retirement community in Towson. He was 92. 

His wife of 53 years, Anastasia U. Zimmerman, a registered nurse who had served as a major with the Army Nurse Corps, died Tuesday of congestive heart failure, also at Blakehurst. She was 89.

"Without a doubt, Dr. Zimmerman was the most influential eye pathologist in the last 150 years. He was known worldwide and he trained all of the world's leading eye pathologists of the 20th century," said Dr. Morton F. Goldberg, who was director of the Wilmer Eye Institute at Johns Hopkins Hospital from 1989 until 2003.

"He was a charismatic and brilliant lecturer, which is a mark of erudition and real brilliance," said Dr. Goldberg. "He was a fine person with impeccable ethics, and he also had inherent leadership traits. He had been a leader in our field for more than 50 years."

Lorenz Eugene Zimmerman, the son of a German immigrant father and an immigrant mother from Switzerland, was born and raised in Washington, graduating in 1938 from Central High School. "They owned the Regent Pastry Shop in Washington, and he said he went into medicine because he didn't want to have to work as hard as his parents," said a daughter, Dr. Mary Louise "Lou" Collins, a Homeland resident, who is director of pediatric ophthalmology and resident education at Greater Baltimore Medical Center .

Dr. Zimmerman earned his bachelor's degree in 1943 and his medical degree in 1945, both from George Washington University. 

He served in the Army from 1944 to 1954, attaining the rank of lieutenant colonel.

He served an internship at the old Gallinger Municipal Hospital in Washington from 1945 to 1946 and completed a general pathology residency at Walter Reed Army Medical Center from 1947 to 1950. 

"The start of the Korean War coincided with the end of his residency, and he became the pathologist in charge of a field hospital pathology laboratory where he served in Korea until 1952," said Dr. Collins.

While in Korea, Dr. Zimmerman was commanding officer of the 8217th Mobile Medical Laboratory. His decorations included the Bronze Star and Legion of Merit.

The Korean War was the backdrop for the beginning of a friendship that later blossomed into a marriage. The future Mrs. Zimmerman had enlisted in the Army Nurse Corps in 1945 and served in Japan during the occupation after the end of World War II.

"My parents first met in a mobile Army hospital in Korea," said Dr. Collins. "They did not see each other again for seven or eight years until they were both stationed at Walter Reed. They married in 1959."

In 1952, Dr. Zimmerman began his career at the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. He remained there for the next 52 years, and chaired the department of ophthalmic pathology from 1954 to 1983. He was chairman emeritus at his death.

"This was the turning point in his career, although he had not had specific training in pathology of the eye and ocular adnexa," said Dr. Collins.

Dr. Zimmerman's role was not treating patients but rather studying eye tissue and cells that may lead to eye disease. He made important contributions to the understanding of the causes of leukocoria, or white pupil, and ocular melanoma.

"He studied a huge volume of tissue samples that came from eye surgeons all over the world. He brought exceptional order out of chaos," said Dr. Goldberg.

Dr. Zimmerman was not only a prolific researcher but also an indefatigable writer of scientific articles. During his career, he wrote more than 370 articles in peer-reviewed journals, "many of which are landmark contributions," said Dr. Collins.

He also lectured widely. "Every talk he gave he was just spectacular," said Dr. C. Pat Wilkinson, chairman of the department of ophthalmology at GBMC. "I knew him from my residency days and he was one of those figures you rarely come across in life."

He was a professor of pathology and ophthalmology at Georgetown University from 1983 to 1986 and was a consultant in pathology from 1976 to 1999 at Washington Hospital Center.

Dr. Zimmerman was also a professor of ophthalmology and pathology at the Johns Hopkins Medical School.

He retired in 2002.

"He was a man of no pretensions. He was known as 'Zim,'" said Dr. Goldberg. "He loved teaching and doing original research and was exceptional at both."

"Zim does leave a lasting legacy," said Dr. Wilkinson. "He had a wonderful personality. He was an elegant, charming and enthusiastic guy that everyone just adored. We will all miss him."

The couple had lived in Kensington for many years before moving to Blakehurst 11 years ago. Dr. Zimmerman liked spending time at a second home at Sherwood Forest.

Anastasia and Lorenz

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[Editor's note: The Zimmermann and Hellstern families both came from the town of Betra, and intermarried frequently: the most direct pairing is Magdalena Zimmermann, who married Alfred Hellstern senior. Her brother was Lorenz's father, the immigrant who came from serving in the kitchens of a castle to owning a bakery in Washington, DC.]

Launceston Library

I remember asking my mother if our family had come west during the gold rush (we had probably just learned about it in school). Not exactly, she said, part of our family did come to California for the gold rush, but they had come east--from Australia. 

The ancestor in question was a gruff man by the name of William George Beck (he went by George). My mother told me that he emigrated to Launceston, Tasmania from England with his parents, but that she and her aunt could find nothing more—only they were sure he was not a convict. 

When my mother passed away, I inherited boxes of genealogical research, several in my great aunt Marjorie’s loopy but legible handwriting. Confirming her research, I learned that George’s father, Thomas and his wife did indeed arrive in Tasmania in 1831–quite early in the history of European settlement in the area. George was not on the passenger manifest, as he was a ship’s carpenter, though he remain based in Launceston for many years.

What struck me, as I worked my way through the handwritten notes, and then plunged into Trove—the aptly named Tasmanian online site with newspaper archives and civil records, was that they a) all worked multiple jobs and b) the lives of the Beck family was intertwined with folks by the name of Webb and Knight. Thomas, the Beck patriarch, ran a pub and a bakery (where he also sold patent medicine pedaled by busybody Mr. Knight, who also ran the local newspaper, and later a finishing school for young ladies); Mrs. Beck (Hannah) sold bonnets and ribbons "just arrived from England" with a Mrs. Webb (Sarah)—who also happened to arrive in Tasmania on the same boat--with her husband and child. When children were baptized or marriages solemnized, Webbs and Becks were both in attendance, and at least one marriage was celebrated at Mr. Knight’s Carr Villa, which apparently had been built by George Beck himself. 

Having grown up in a small town, I could see how paths would cross often, but these lives were more tightly woven than normal for friendships. There had to be more.

Now, my darling husband just happened to have relatives in New Zealand, which provided the perfect opportunity to visit down under—and as long as we were in the neighborhood, Tasmania was a relatively short jaunt.

Which was how I found myself in the Launceston library one December, poring over an immense hand drawn map of the town, with each parcel neatly labeled with the name of the grantee. And there, right next to each other were three parcels: J. Knight, J. Webb, and T. Beck. 

Land grants - more than neighbors!

What's more, from them I learned of a small tome in the Hobart library just down the road, self-published by a fellow with the Knight surname. Copies were made, emails flew, and I learned two things: firstly, the author himself lived just over the border from me in Canada, and secondly, Mrs. Beck, Mrs. Webb, and Mr. Knight were siblings. 

Of course, the reason they all went to Australia in the first place is a post for a later date.

 

Family is what family does

In an earlier post, I recounted how the Richardson family pulled together to help after the untimely death of a son-in-law; my grandfather, Russell Richardson, came to help her pack and move the family back to their parent's home in Sutherlin.

Interestingly, this was not the last time an untimely death put my grandfather in a position to help out. In late fall of 1939, his brother-in-law, Malcolm Gilmour, a sales manager for C&H Sugar Corporation suffered a massive heart attack and died. 

"…on the day of his death (Nov. 11, 1939, just after his 47th birthday), he woke up not feeling very well, and ate very little breakfast, but he had tickets for a football game, so he went. He continued to feel unwell, and left the game early to come home (he wasn't driving, he used public transportation). Their house on Bellevue Ave. in Piedmont was on the uphill side of the street, and there was a formidable couple of flights of stairs leading up to the front door. About two-thirds of the way up, he collapsed and died."

[email from Madge R. Walsh to James C. Richardson 5/28/2005]

Malcolm's wife, Ida Cutting Gilmour, was left suddenly without means and two children to support. She could no longer afford the large family home (houses in this tony enclave now go for $3-6 million and have ballrooms), and so moved in with her sister's home while a smaller house was built.

Which is why, in the 1940 census, the relatively modest Richardson household in Piedmont, California, was larger than usual, with not only Russell, his wife Jessie, and their two children, but also Ida and her two children, Malcolm Jr and Jean. The household included two 17 year-old cousins, both trying to decide what their education after high school would look like (and likely emptying the larder), my nine-year old mother, and a 20-year old cousin who was finishing up art school and who practiced bagpipes in the house. 

Because family helps family. 

Ida and Malcolm about 1920

Almost an Angel

My great uncle, Edwin Julian Cutting, was the youngest of five siblings, and the only one born outside the US--in Hawaii. His father, Eugene Lester Cutting, had found employment as a bookkeeper with the Hupmobile dealer in Honolulu, and had moved his family there. 

My grandmother recalled that Edwin used to get away with all sorts of things since he was the youngest and had an enchanting smile--why, he even sliced the butter from the wrong end, much to his mother's chagrin. He always chalked it up to being a southpaw.

 

Eventually, the family returned to California, and the children completed their education there. In high school, Edwin played baseball, and a dearth of professional talent led to a scout putting him in a game as a first baseman for the Los Angeles Angels -- during summer break in 1922. However, his family insisted that he needed to complete high school, which meant he could not play for the Angels until he graduated in the spring. In spite of this, the LA Club (which was then part of the Pacific Coast League) signed him for the next year. 

 

Edwin didn't stay away from the diamond completely though: he was picked up by a "bush league" team called the Thomson-Diggs (sponsored by a hardware store of the same name) in the Sacramento Winter League. The newspapers are full of hopeful hyperbole, as Edwin is one of eight AA picks that played on that team in the winter of 1922-23. If you look at his stats for the season, he's a reliable (left-handed) hitter (over .500), but his real value is defensive, as he picked runners off at first base in high numbers, averaging nearly 10 outs per game.

Indeed, the Thomson-Diggs lead the league, winning all their games until the very last. In a game delayed by one week due to rain, Edwin had to request permission from the Angels to play, as the date of the game, February 19, 1923, was the same date he was supposed to report for spring training for the Angels. Alas, the "Thomson-Diggs Nine" lost spectacularly 9-3 to the Leo Lobner's (they had fancy uniforms, since their sponsor was a men's clothier). 

 

In the end, Edwin never saw any more action with the Angels; The Long Beach Telegram reports on March 21, 1923: "Several promising young ball players who are not yet ripe to play in the Coast League will probably be turned over to the Shell Oil team by Los Angeles for seasoning in the Oil Belt league, according to word from Feistner this morning. They are Ed Cutting, first baseman, who is badly needed to take the place of Frank Metz, who is leaving after Sundays game for other climes." 

 

“Eddie” Cutting turns up during spring training with the Saint Louis Browns, where he is signed for the 1924 season, with the note that “Cutting is a left-hander and won't take much development to make him ready for the fastest company.” He trains hard throughout spring training in Mobile, Alabama, and sprains his ankle once. During spring training, a personal interest story describes him: "One thing particularly noticeable about Cutting is that he is almost always lit up with smiles galore. He has a fine disposition, loves to boost his native section of the country, California, to the skies, and is anxious to make good."

 

In April 1925, he married a Los Angeles débutante. As late as May 1925, it is noted that he will be retained as Brown’s property, though he never saw a professional game again.  

Edwin Cutting, Sacramento Winter League 1923