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Editor's Notes |
alanjette{at}apta.org
Boston, Massachusetts
September 1, 2005
The world of physical therapy became a much less interesting place on August 27, 2005, with the untimely death of Jules Rothstein, PT, PhD, FAPTA, Editor in Chief Emeritus of Physical Therapy. Under his leadership as Editor in Chief, Physical Therapy became recognized worldwide as the premier physical therapy scientific journal.
It is easy to forget the limited role of science and scholarship in our profession back in 1989 when Jules assumed his position as Editor. There were too few physical therapists actively conducting and publishing research, and too few physical therapists who received any external funding for their studies. As Jules himself often lamented, many of the studies being published in our field were student projects, with limited relevance to practice. Jules was instrumental in providing leadership at a critical time in our profession's history and helped transform the role of scientific evidence in our field over the past 15 years. Much of his leadership was wielded—mightily—from the tip of his editorial pen.
As noted in a letter the Journal recently received from Dr Rob Herbert, Scientific Editor of the Australian Journal of Physiotherapy, "Professor Rothstein's influence on our profession, even half a world away in Australia, was enormous. His legacy will be that research has begun the transition from a purely academic pursuit to a force that changes clinical practice."
Recognizing his enormous contributions to the Journal and to the profession of physical therapy, in July, APTA's Board of Directors designated Jules Rothstein as Editor in Chief Emeritus, the first such designation in the history of the Association.
In his first—and, sadly, his final—editorial as Editor in Chief Emeritus, Jules wrote: "I approached death's door more than a half dozen times, and it appeared as though I was in what some would call the twilight of my existence, at the edge of some kind of eternal darkness."1
In a conversation just 1 week before his death, Jules told me he was at peace and not afraid of the approaching twilight. As he wrote in his final editorial, "Twilight seems to herald the end of something, but the miracle unfolding before our eyes really is about transition, not endings. Twilight brings darkness, but it also promises the end of darkness and the return of light." Tragically, after surviving 2 liver transplants, 4 additional surgeries, the onset of leukemia, and the effects of several rounds of chemotherapy and systemic infections, everlasting twilight overtook Jules, taking him away from his family, his circle of friends and colleagues, as well as the thousands of physical therapists around the world whose lives he touched.
My first, and unforgettable, encounter with Jules was in 1978 in a "MASH" compound that had been constructed on the grounds of the Anaheim Disneyland Hotel at a drug company reception for the American Rheumatology Association Annual Meeting. At the time, both Jules and I were research fellows with the Arthritis Foundation. Minding my own business and trying to maneuver myself to secure a much-needed drink after presenting one of my first research papers, I was cornered by a Churchillian character with cigar in hand. He was devouring a plate of food with obvious gusto while at the same time expounding on outcome measurement research. I was taken aback, never having met anyone so passionate about measurement research. I have to confess that my first impression of Jules was not overly positive as I tried, unsuccessfully, to make my way out of the MASH compound.
Jules was a man of many passions: his family, his friends and colleagues, his profession, this Journal... and also deli food, cigars, fly fishing, movies, the latest new gadget, politics, and debate on most any subject. Like a fine wine, I had to acquire a taste for Jules and his passions. He was never shy in sharing his opinion on the issues of the day, and his exuberance in doing so could sometimes be overwhelming. With time, I came to enjoy our interactions enormously. Our relationship yielded rich rewards for me, and Jules became a lifelong friend and trusted colleague.
I will particularly miss his monthly editorials, where he applied his enormous journalistic talent to inspire and provoke us all. Shortly after receiving the call notifying me of his death, I took the opportunity to reread many of my favorite Jules editorials, to recapture his passion for the many battles he undertook during his tenure as Editor. In his final editorial last month, Jules offered us his sage advice to allow ourselves to be stupid occasionally, to leap before we spend too much time looking. For me, Jules displayed nothing close to stupidity but rather the courage to risk leaping into the darkness of the unknown to help move our profession forward—forward to new horizons, to a time he described in his McMillan lecture as "a day when our profession will be fundamentally different because we will be accountable and our practice will be based on research rather than whim."2
At the time I heard of Jules' death, I was reading Patricia O'Toole's new book, When Trumpets Call:Theodore Roosevelt After the White House.3 In the preface, O'Toole quotes Tennyson's portrayal of Ulysses after his travels:
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished,
not to shine in use!
In life, Jules was never dull, and he rarely paused. Although his travels ended prematurely and he has passed into the everlasting twilight, Jules will always "shine in use...and never rust unburnished" in memory.
In Memoriam
Jules M Rothstein, PT, PhD, FAPTA
Editor in Chief Emeritus
Physical Therapy
1947-2005
References
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