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Editor's Notes |
jules-rothstein@attbi.com
In August, the Journal says goodbye to APTA's Senior Vice President for Communications, Nancy Perkin Beaumont, CAE. I hope the members and leaders of the Society of American Archivists know what they are getting when she arrives in Chicago as their new CEO. They have recruited a remarkable human being who, in 16 years of service, has left a mark on APTA and the world of physical therapy that few physical therapists can match. Nancy leaves an impressive title—Senior Vice President—but I remember how she arrived at APTA, and, with due deference to radio commentator Paul Harvey, here is the rest of the story.
Nancy had been Managing Editor of Annals of Emergency Medicine when she was recruited to APTA to oversee publications. Her hiring was part of a new phase in APTA's growth and development. For the first time, the Association hired a publications professional with a background in scientific, peer-reviewed journals. Nancy's arrival signaled that our Association had grown so large and in so many positive ways that we now needed a variety of experts with experience to work with the physical therapists who were on staff.
This growth was actually a tribute to the physical therapists who had been on APTA's staff—but not everyone saw it that way. Some people viewed Nancy as an intruder, and she wasn't always given the warmest welcome. As my dear friend Eugene Michels advised me, "You might want to talk to this new person in publications. She has great ideas." In Mike's wonderfully understated way, he added, "She could use some support."
As an associate professor who was publishing in this Journal and in other journals at the time, I too had ideas. So I drove up from Richmond to Alexandria, Virginia, to meet this intruder. I offered all of the perfunctory courtesies in welcoming Nancy to APTA, but I sensed she was wondering why I had come to see her. She didn't seem to trust me.
The Journal was without an editor, and I had one agenda item. In my experience, all respected peer-reviewed journals were edited by someone with scientific credentials, not by a staff person whose primary expertise was in publishing. When I broached this topic, Nancy rose from her chair, went to the doorway of her office, looked up and down the hall, and then gently closed the door. She did all but sweep the room for electronic listening devices. You would think we were about to discuss the Manhattan Project.
She asked me if I knew whether other people felt the same way, and I said that there were many Journal authors who believed this was an important evolutionary step. She then asked, "If what you're saying is true, why haven't I heard it from anyone else?" I was brutally honest and told her that people did not yet trust her. She then explained that, in her experience, the only credible model for a journal was to have a scientist-researcher-clinician editor, and this was her highest priority for Physical Therapy.
From that moment on, it was as though we had entered into a conspiracy, one that can only now be unveiled. (I have always wanted to write a sentence like that.) For my part, I promised to argue for the logic of a new structure and to tell people that they should talk to her. I realized again what a genius Eugene Michels was, because that is exactly what he had told me to do—but I lacked the twinkle in the eye and the foresight to appreciate how small deeds can achieve so very much.
Shortly after my meeting with Nancy, the Journal's Associate Editors (a group appointed by APTA's Board of Directors) endorsed—thanks to the leadership of Chair Robert Lamb—the role of what Steve Rose would later mockingly call an "Out House Editor." Steve could make fun of the title "Out-of-House Editor" because he was the first to hold it. (As he pointed out to me, he also was the first male Physical Therapy Editor.) Steve was appointed by the APTA Board of Directors; Nancy would be his Managing Editor. Nancy wisely insisted that, as part of the new structure, the Editor should appoint the Associate Editors.
In his year as Editor, with Nancy's assistance, Steve somehow found the energy to edit the Journal despite the multiple myeloma that was destroying his organs. Nancy quietly and without fanfare helped Steve in myriad ways. She would help him so that, even as his life ebbed, his vision could have life and be a legacy to the profession. Without her, Steve could never have done so much in that year. Illness may have robbed him of his ability to function, but Nancy returned what was stolen through work, dedication, and love.
We were dumb when Nancy arrived among us. She was never an outsider, never an intruder. As an Associate Editor appointed by Steve, I saw firsthand that she was a very special member of the APTA family.
When Steve's health deteriorated, he told me that, in his mind, it was a foregone conclusion that I should succeed him. Nancy and I have been good friends over the years, but on this one issue she refuses to believe me: At the time I met her, and throughout most of Steve's tenure as Editor, I never considered myself doing that job. When Steve died, however, I saw all that he had done—and all that still needed to be done.
That was nearly 15 years ago. Nancy again insisted that the new Editor be chosen by APTA's Board of Directors so that the Editor would draw authority from as high a source as possible. She put all the candidates through an audition and evaluation process and then left the final decision up to the Board. Given my "innate charm" and "adeptness" at political matters, I assumed I didn't have a chance. Much to my surprise, I was awakened from a nap to take a phone call from then President Jane Mathews. The Board apparently wanted the Journal to move forward and evolve and thought that I could do it. (Scared the hell out of me.) Nancy insisted that the Editor be given a letter of agreement that guaranteed total editorial independence. Through her pioneering efforts, Physical Therapy had acquired what was needed to become as credible as any other journal in the biomedical world.
Nancy's responsibilities as Director of Publications grew, so, to her regret, she had to give up her favorite job in the world—being a managing editor. But as new Managing Editor Karin Quantrille and I set about changing things, we were blessed by Nancy's presence, insights, and (sometimes) stubbornness. Together we redefined the manuscript categories, eliminating boundaries between research and practice. Associate Editors became Editorial Board members, department editors were appointed, and the Deputy Editor position was created. We also revamped the peer-review process, focusing on the identification of issues related to credibility and clinical relevance. We established Journal policies requiring authors to examine clinically relevant samples whenever feasible. We had wrought a quiet revolution.
There was so much change that it's dizzying to recall. It's also humbling, as I remember my feet of clay. Karin and I would come up with ideas and then water them down for fear of doing too much, too soon. To make things different, Nancy said that we would need dramatic change and that reasonable people would agree. She rightfully reminded us to question all aspects of the Journal and not to accept anything just because "that's the way it's always been done." Her radical suggestion was that everything should be considered on its merits. Nancy eventually developed a most peculiar facial expression that substituted for the words, and she had a snarl that melted into a smile when she saw that we got the message. Any success that I have had as Editor of this Journal is because of the wonderful staff that serve all of us, but none has been more critical in this Journal's development than Nancy.
My parochial focus on the Journal actually does a disservice to Nancy's achievements and the debt we owe her. Under her leadership, PT Magazine was created, an in-house Art Department was established, our public relations efforts thrived, and all aspects of our communications—including online communications—became the envy of any professional association.
When Nancy first came to APTA, she posted a Mark Twain quote on her door: "Loyalty to petrified opinion never yet broke a chain or freed a human soul." She has shown that loyalty born out of belief and caring often gets more done than loyalty born out of necessity or collegial ties. Like so many of the non–physical therapists who have joined our staff, Nancy has proven that the 40-hour work week does not exist at APTA and that physical therapists are not the only people who love this profession so deeply that they make sacrifices on its behalf.
Nancy's move is a personal loss for me, but, more important, it's a loss for all of us as an Association. I am certain that APTA will have a new generation of staff leaders who will offer new visions, but "the rest of the story" is that there is only one Nancy—and she arrived at just the right time.
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