November 1944. In an operating room filled with tense anticipation, a surgeon prepared to undertake a seemingly impossible feat – operating on the heart of a baby. Cardiac surgery was then considered the Everest of medical procedures, a peak many believed unreachable. The lives of countless infants, condemned by congenital heart defects, hung in the balance. Dr. Rowena Spencer, a pediatric surgeon, poignantly recalled, “And to my dying day I will remember those poor squalling little babies, because they were so miserably uncomfortable.”
As the surgeon’s scalpel poised, another man stood beside him, not in the spotlight, yet his guidance was the linchpin of this audacious endeavor. Together, these two individuals, Partners Of The Heart in the truest sense, were on the cusp of reshaping modern medicine. Dr. Alfred Blalock is celebrated as a pioneering figure in cardiac surgery. But beside him, in the shadows of history for too long, was Vivien Thomas. Thomas, a Black man in a racially segregated America, carved pathways to healing when most doors were firmly shut against him. Dr. Levi Watkins Jr. of Johns Hopkins emphasized, “I think he is the most untalked about, unappreciated, unknown giant in the African American community. What he helped facilitate impacted people all over the world.”
Vivien Thomas and Alfred Blalock’s lives began in starkly contrasting worlds. Their paths converged in 1930 Nashville, Tennessee. For 19-year-old Vivien Thomas, Nashville, despite its segregation, presented a vista of possibilities. Becoming a doctor, even in Black Nashville, was not an outlandish aspiration. Historian Dr. Bobby Lovett explained, “Well it was not a stereotypical black community in the South, because it did have a large elite class, with doctors and lawyers and storeowners and entrepreneurs and Nashville had a very large class.” While poverty cast a long shadow over most of Nashville’s African American community, a burgeoning middle class had cultivated its own thriving world. Black firefighters protected neighborhoods, Black doctors provided healthcare, and churches served as the vibrant heart of Black life.
Nashville’s burgeoning economy had drawn Thomas’s father, a master carpenter, from Louisiana. Vivien, the youngest of three sons, inherited his father’s gifted hands. His carpentry earnings were intended to pave his way to college. Dr. Bobby Lovett noted, “So if he had the skills and he had good education, he knew that in that segregated community he could make it as a doctor, as a teacher, as a lawyer, and so on.” Thomas excelled at Pearl High School, a bastion of academic rigor. An honors student in the class of 1929, he set his sights on Tennessee A&I State College. However, the crushing blow of the Great Depression descended soon after graduation. Bank failures erased his college savings – seven years of dedicated carpentry work vanished in an instant.
Vivien Thomas recounted in his autobiography, “My first feelings were anger, followed by disbelief. Men were walking the streets for jobs that didn’t exist. But I thought that things would somehow change in my favor.” Across the tracks, a job opening beckoned at Vanderbilt University’s medical school. Thomas was hired by Dr. Alfred Blalock, the director of the research laboratory, for meager pay, less than a carpenter’s wage. His official designation: janitor. Blalock, his new boss, was a dynamic 32-year-old with a reputation for relentless work ethic and a volatile temper. Alfred Blalock hailed from Southern aristocracy. Historian Joe Moore stated, “The Blalocks were always considered one of the best families in this region. And really making money came as natural to the Blalock men as breathing air.” His father, George Blalock, a successful businessman, envisioned his son continuing the family legacy. But Alfred was drawn to medicine. During his time at Johns Hopkins as a student, he appeared more captivated by social life and sports. Dr. Robinson Baker of Johns Hopkins recalled, “He had a reputation as being very active socially. And at least in one group, which included my mother and some of her friends was called, Playboy Al.”
Denied a residency at Hopkins, Blalock found himself at Vanderbilt – a move he perceived as a step down. Yet, Nashville proved transformative. The young doctor settled into his career and personal life, marrying debutante Mary O’Brien in a wedding that became the social highlight of the year. At Vanderbilt, Blalock embarked on an ambitious research agenda. Driven to prove himself, he focused on a critical yet poorly understood medical enigma: shock. Shock claimed more surgical patients annually than any other single cause. Blalock needed assistance for his complex experiments. Within weeks of hiring the young Vivien Thomas, he recognized a remarkable talent, someone with the potential to be trained into a skilled technician. Dr. Levi Watkins noted, “I think he recognized early Vivien’s talent, his technical talent, and what he needed was a technician.” Andrew Manlove, a Vanderbilt technician, elaborated, “Blalock taught Vivien what to do. He taught him how to keep records. He would say, Vivien, what we need you to do is to write down what you’re doing. You can’t run an experiment without keeping an accurate record.”
Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. of Johns Hopkins observed, “He learned very quickly how brilliant Vivien was and how talented because he turned over to him within a year’s time the important responsibilities of taking all the notes on the experiments without him having any scientific background. What he couldn’t have known was how unique that relationship would become.” Dr. Louis Rosenfeld of Vanderbilt University added, “Blalock was a stickler for perfection. If you did your work, he was wonderful to work with. But if you did not, he was hell warmed over.”
Vivien Thomas recounted in his autobiography, “One day, I became the target of Dr. Blalock’s famous temper. The profanity he used would have made a sailor proud.” Author Nat Crippens recounted, “Vivien didn’t say anything. But as he thought about it, a few minutes later, he said I don’t have to take this.” Vivien Thomas continued in his autobiography, “I went across the hall to Dr. Blalock’s office. I told him I had not been raised to take that kind of language. I was leaving.” Nat Crippens concluded, “Dr. Blalock actually apologized to this 19 year old youngun. And he said, I’ll never do that again. And Vivien said throughout the subsequent 34 years, Dr. Blalock never did that again to him. And that was the beginning of their mutual respect for each other.” Author John Egerton noted, “Down the road five or six years, they’re a real team. He is an important research assistant to the doctor. But Vivien is still making a menial salary and he finds out he’s still classified as a janitor.”
Thomas requested a raise. His responsibilities in the lab were expanding, as were his domestic duties. At 24, newly married, Thomas had built a house for his bride and now needed to provide for his family. Andrew Manlove recalled, “That was one of the constant fights that he and Dr. Blalock had was salary. And he threatened to leave several times on that account. But Dr. Blalock always talked him into the notion of staying.” When experiments demanded late hours, the two men would sometimes share drinks, delve into scientific discussions, and passionately debate their viewpoints. Within the lab’s confines, they operated by their own rules. Outside, the rigid rules of segregation prevailed. John Egerton described Vanderbilt from Vivien Thomas’s perspective: “In the eyes of Vivien Thomas, Vanderbilt had to look like a plantation. It was all white students. It was almost entirely white employees. And all of the black employees were in menial jobs. There were no exceptions to this, period.”
Thomas received incremental pay increases, but his official designation at Vanderbilt remained janitor. Blalock, eager to retain Thomas and propel his research, pushed for these small gains. Dr. Levi Watkins observed, “I think that was another thing that Blalock saw in him, inward drive. And just the ability to do whatever is necessary to accomplish what the laboratory was trying to do.” Working in close collaboration, these partners of the heart achieved a pivotal breakthrough – proving that shock resulted from blood and fluid loss. This discovery would save countless lives, particularly on the battlefields of World War II. Their success, however, marked a turning point in their partnership. John Egerton explained, “When Blalock had an opportunity because of his growing renown to go elsewhere to teach and to move up in his professional life. He always made it a condition of any such consideration that Vivien Thomas came with the deal.”
In 1940, during one of their after-hours conversations, Blalock informed Thomas of an exciting offer – to return to Johns Hopkins as Chief of Surgery. Blalock asked his indispensable technician to join him. Dr. Louis Rosenfeld recounted, “Blalock realized he needed Vivien and I think Vivien debated about going with a wife and child.” Vivien Thomas reflected in his autobiography, “I didn’t know what to expect at Hopkins. It would mean leaving our community and the house that I had built with my own hands. But we were young and hoped that big things lay ahead.”
ACT II
The Thomases arrived in Baltimore in June 1941. With war looming, the city teemed with newcomers seeking work in its burgeoning defense industries. The crowded metropolis was a shock to the young couple. Clara Thomas, Vivien’s widow, admitted, “I was ready to go back when I saw Baltimore. All I wanted to do was get out as fast as I came in. But it was something I had to put up with. And I put up with it.” Beyond the urban density, the racial climate in Baltimore was deeply unsettling. If Vivien and Clara Thomas had hoped for greater tolerance in the North, they were sorely mistaken. Author Fraser Smith stated, “It was really little different from the deep south. There were just as many exclusions for black people in the city of Baltimore as there were anywhere else. In some ways, they were, they were worse and more pronounced and divided.”
Vivien Thomas described the housing search in his autobiography: “The hunt for a place to live was disheartening. In Nashville we had a lawn and tress. Here such homes were “unavailable” to Negroes. Many apartments I looked at were hardly fit for human habitation.” Thomas initially stayed with the Blalocks while searching for a home. It took months to find a habitable row house downtown. Just blocks away, the imposing dome of Johns Hopkins Hospital dominated the skyline. Alfred Blalock’s arrival as Surgeon-in-Chief was celebrated in the local press. However, within his department, reactions were mixed. Dr. Jacob Handelsman of Johns Hopkins noted, “He was held to be a person who was startlingly young. There was a serious question as to whether a person so young could run a department this important.”
Despite internal skepticism, Blalock focused the department on surgical research, a neglected area under his predecessor. The Hunterian Laboratory, detached from the main hospital, became the epicenter of this effort. Upon inspecting their new workspace, Blalock and Thomas were dismayed. The equipment was outdated, and one lab appeared abandoned. Vivien Thomas wrote in his autobiography, “I was not prepared for the odor that greeted us when we entered. The main laboratory was a mess. The atmosphere throughout was depressing…almost revolting. So this is Johns Hopkins. The great Johns Hopkins I have been hearing about for as long as I can remember.” Together, Blalock and Thomas confronted the challenge of building a state-of-the-art research facility. Individually, Thomas faced a more profound challenge: navigating the pervasive racial prejudice at Johns Hopkins.
Fraser Smith observed, “Well, Hopkins was regarded as prejudiced. That was the word that was used in those days; that they were a sort of an implacable fortress.” Dr. Levi Watkins added, “The black community, with reason, had no faith and no trust in this institution. And it’s because of the legacy of separation and segregation. The legacy of coming into this hospital and seeing your color only in the basement.” In 1941, segregation was entrenched in every facet of Johns Hopkins. A rigid hierarchy also governed the medical staff. Dr. Koco Eaton, Thomas’s nephew, explained, “Hopkins is a university and medical school that’s very, very deep in tradition. And the way you dress and the particular clothes that you’re wearing lets everyone know what your position in life is at that school. The interns wear a short white coat and white pants. When you graduate to the level of a senior resident, then you can wear your own pants. And you wear a long white lab coat.” As a technician in Blalock’s research department, Vivien Thomas also wore a white lab coat. Dr. Richard Scott, a cardiovascular surgeon, recalled, “When he wasn’t scrubbed, he had on the most immaculate white lab coat that I had ever seen. I mean — and it was just — there were no wrinkles. It was just starched to the ultimate.”
One day, Thomas walked from the Hunterian lab to the main hospital building. Fraser Smith elaborated on the reaction: “Vivien would have been seen as quite an anomaly. Walking down the hallway, people would have wondered what — who is this person. How is he here? Who let him in?” Dr. Koco Eaton recounted the aftermath: “And he said there was such a big stink raised about it. People wanted him fired. So actually Blalock had a talk with him and said ‘Listen, when you go over to the hospital, take your lab coat off.’ He was a man with pride, but yet a lot of times that pride couldn’t show. So I think it was very tough for him.” Dr. Robinson Baker noted, “Dr. Blalock was not opposed to segregation and he had the same attitudes about race, I think, as anyone else raised in Southern Georgia. When he came to Baltimore those attitudes really weren’t much different. This was a very segregated hospital. Not much was said or done about it at the time.”
Blalock was consumed with finding a significant new research project. In the fall of 1943, a colleague, Dr. Helen Taussig, approached him with a compelling idea. Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. explained, “Dr. Taussig was the first woman pediatric cardiologist. She was one of the first women on any faculty anywhere. When she was made chief of pediatric cardiology, her great concern was with congenital heart disease in children.” Taussig, nearly deaf from childhood whooping cough, possessed an extraordinary ability to diagnose complex heart conditions using a specialized stethoscope and her tactile senses. She was deeply moved by children suffering from a fatal heart defect, whom she called “Blue Babies.” Cookie Belkov was one such child.
Sylvia Belkov, Cookie’s mother, described her condition: “She had blue lips, blue fingers, and blue feet. You would sit her down and she would sit just like this — she didn’t look alive. Because we sat her in the grocery store one day and a little boy walked in and all of a sudden, he started screaming. And his mother said what’s the matter? He said the doll that’s sitting there — her eyes move and so do her hands. Cookie looked like a living doll.” Cookie’s heart and lungs were failing, stunting her growth and giving her skin a bluish hue. Even a few steps left her breathless. Medical science offered no recourse. Cookie’s prognosis was dire. Sylvia Belkov recalled, “They had no options. Babies like that are supposed to die. See I couldn’t absorb it. Maybe I didn’t want to.” Thousands of Blue Babies were born annually. Their desperate parents yearned for a cure. But any solution necessitated physically intervening in the human heart.
G. Wayne Miller, author, explained the historical perspective: “Historically, the heart was considered taboo. Medically intervening in any way, certainly cutting it was something that could not be achieved, would simply be impossible.” Taussig had a daring concept: creating a pathway from the heart to the lungs using an artery. She shared this radical idea with Blalock. Despite surgical advancements, such an intricate procedure had never been attempted. Blalock embraced the challenge. Over the next year, he and Thomas delved into this complex problem in the renovated Hunterian Laboratory. Their collaboration gained urgency; the lives of children like Cookie Belkov depended on their success.
G. Wayne Miller described their ingenious solution: “They came up with a very ingenious idea of connecting an artery that sent blood out into the body to an artery that brings blood into the lungs. By doing that, they added significantly more oxygen to the blood.” Blalock, burdened with teaching and administrative duties, entrusted the procedural details to Thomas. When existing surgical instruments proved inadequate, Thomas designed and fabricated them himself. These instruments would later become standard in operating rooms. Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. noted, “Vivien designed these instruments and then Dr. Blalock would get one of the medical companies to actually manufacture them based upon Vivien’s feeling about what technically was going to be the most useful.” The most daunting task was replicating the blue baby syndrome in laboratory animals. Thomas first had to induce the heart defect in a dog before they could attempt to correct it.
NEWSREEL NARRATOR: Her pedigree isn’t royal, but thanks to Anna and the surgeons at Johns Hopkins, thousands of our children may have a new lease on life!
Anna, a dog, became the only animal whose portrait graces the Hopkins medical library. With Anna, Thomas and Blalock had conquered the technical hurdles. The crucial question remained: would the procedure work on a critically ill child? In the autumn of 1944, Taussig approached Blalock about saving a desperately ill infant named Eileen Saxon. Dr. Denton Cooley of the Texas Heart Institute explained the prevailing concern, “You know, the real worry at the time was could a little blue child like this withstand surgery? And withstand anesthesia?” Eileen Saxon was fading rapidly; time was running out. The team prepared to transition from the laboratory to the operating room overnight. Weighing barely nine pounds, Eileen’s frail condition was deeply concerning. Upon seeing her, the anesthesiologist resigned, convinced she could not survive. Dr. William Longmire of UCLA recalled, “Everyone was predicting it was gonna be a disaster. It satisfied me that we were gonna make a desperate effort to save this child’s life.”
On the morning of November 29, 1944, Eileen Saxon was wheeled into the operating room. Everyone present recognized the gravity of the moment. This was not just routine surgery; they were participants in a pivotal medical drama. At 8:00 AM, Dr. Blalock was ready to begin. In the gallery, a small group of anxious observers waited. But someone was missing. “Where is Vivien?” Blalock demanded. “Go get him.” Dr. Denton A. Cooley explained Blalock’s insistence: “I knew that he felt rather insecure by not having Vivien there because Vivien had probably more experience with doing these procedures than Dr. Blalock had.” At Blalock’s urgent request, Vivien Thomas stood on a step stool just behind him. Thomas had performed the operation hundreds of times on laboratory animals. Blalock had only executed the complete procedure once at Hopkins.
G. Wayne Miller emphasized the unprecedented nature of the surgery: “He was going where no one had gone before. And he was going within an area where there were great consequences to failure. The consequence was you had a dead baby.” Eileen was incredibly small; beneath the sterile drapes, her presence was barely discernible. G. Wayne Miller described the surgical limitations of the era: “Surgery by today’s terms certainly was Neanderthal. You had no way to get an instant report on what was happening inside the body. Among the most sophisticated equipment [in the OR] would have been the clock. Blalock didn’t have unlimited opportunity inside the body. He had to keep a clear eye on the clock and what was going on. I mean, this was really flying blind.”
Ninety minutes into the surgery, Blalock began suturing Eileen’s tiny arteries, no thicker than matchsticks. Vivien Thomas’s voice, calm and precise, guided him through each critical step. These two men, partners of the heart in their shared mission, stood shoulder to shoulder, utterly focused on the operating table. Two men who, outside this room, could not even share a lunch table in the Hopkins cafeteria due to segregation.
Vivien Thomas recounted in his autobiography, “Until the bulldog clamps were removed, I had no idea if those sutures would hold. But when they came off, there was practically no bleeding. You have never seen anything so dramatic. It was almost a miracle.” Dr. William Longmire recalled the transformative moment: “Dr. Blalock had to stop and take a look over the screen to see how quickly — how beautifully — this red color had come to this child’s lips.” Dr. Denton A. Cooley added, “Dr. Taussig was at the head of the table there. And she said, ‘Al, the baby’s lips are a glorious pink color.'” Dr. Alan C. Woods Jr. of Johns Hopkins confessed, “I can’t even talk about that day without emotion. Everybody was around and everybody was crying.”
ACT III
Little Eileen Saxon offered the first glimmer of hope to parents of countless blue babies.
“BLUE BABY MIRACLE” NEWSREEL
G. Wayne Miller described the immediate public reaction: “The popular press immediately seized hold of this and the word miracle was used repeatedly. And it was a big story. I mean it was a story on, on the level of mapping the genome today.” News of the operation’s success unleashed a deluge of desperate parents at Johns Hopkins’ doors. Dr. Ray Heimbecker of the University of Western Ontario stated, “The Blue Baby operation put Johns Hopkins on the map. We had people coming in from all over North America. Every day there would be license plates from Tennessee, from Quebec, from Alaska. People bringing their sickly children to us for help.”
Not every child could be saved. Eileen Saxon, the first Blue Baby, succumbed to complications within a year. The groundbreaking surgery, still experimental, was reserved for children with no other chance of survival. Cookie Belkov, now four years old, was deteriorating rapidly. Sylvia Belkov recounted the urgency: “Cookie had 4 spells in one day. I called my doctor. He says we’re not putting it off. I’m calling Johns Hopkins. Next thing I knew, he says, pack up, you’re getting on a train. You and Cookie.” Cookie was rushed to Hopkins in critical condition. Blalock canceled a European trip to operate immediately. Her surgery lasted two hours, but Sylvia Belkov endured nine hours of agonizing wait for news. Sylvia Belkov vividly recalled the moment of relief: “I did not see Dr. Blalock until they brought her into her room. And he says, you want to see your daughter, go ahead. She looked like a little rosebud. She was beautiful when they brought her down, just beautiful. I’ll tell you the color pink is prettier than the color blue.” Cookie Belkov became an early success story, and lives in San Francisco today.
The Hopkins Heart Room became a global focal point. Patients arrived from across the world. Under the intense pressure of the operating room, Blalock and Thomas refined their procedure. In the first year alone, over 200 operations were performed. Dr. William Grose of Johns Hopkins highlighted Blalock’s unwavering determination: “Dr. Blalock’s major attribute as a surgeon was that he wouldn’t quit. And I’ve seen him when he would be suddenly confronted with the kind of thing where surgeons would be tempted to literally throw in the towel and he wouldn’t. He’d never give up.” In those early months, tense moments were frequent in the OR. Blalock often relied on Thomas’s expertise. He made it clear to everyone, “Only Vivien is to stand there,” in the space behind his right shoulder. Dr. Rowena Spencer recounted, “He depended on Vivien for advice about how long to make the incision and how many stitches. And occasionally Vivien would say, Dr. Blalock, put that stitch in the other way.” Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. summarized their symbiotic partnership: “They depended upon each other and knew the other’s important strengths and roles and they simply leaned on each other.”
What began as a medical sensation transformed into a routine procedure within two years. Blalock welcomed surgeons from around the world to Hopkins to observe the groundbreaking operation. Dr. Jacob Handelsman noted the department’s burgeoning reputation: “It became the most famous department of surgery in the world. The number of people who wanted to train here were huge in number.” The Department of Surgery expanded, and Thomas assumed greater responsibilities. Dr. Richard Scott explained, “As the director, essentially, of the surgical research laboratory, he was given an awful lot of authority to train surgeons and these were individuals that were handpicked by Dr. Blalock.” Every surgical resident was required to learn surgical technique from Thomas. Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. emphasized the effectiveness of Thomas’s teaching: “One of the things that was so important about Vivien’s teaching was that he broke down complicated operations into simple steps. And that way you could teach it to anybody — even me.” Alex Haller later became chief of Pediatric Surgery at Johns Hopkins. Rowena Spencer, in her final year of medical school, became Thomas’s assistant. Dr. Rowena Spencer acknowledged, “Many times in my career I was complimented on my surgical technique and I will admit that a good many people were shocked when I told them I learned my surgical technique from a black man who had only a high school education.”
Thomas was instructing the nation’s brightest young doctors, yet outside the hospital, his social standing remained constrained by racial prejudice. When Blalock hosted staff gatherings at his home, Vivien was present, but not as a guest. Dr. Denton A. Cooley revealed, “One of his responsibilities it seemed was to serve as a bartender at our functions. Vivien was there, he was behind the bar.” To supplement his income, Thomas moonlighted as a bartender. Dr. Richard Scott observed the stark contrast: “That put him into a strange scenario whereby he was training individuals during the day and then serving them their drinks at night.” Dr. William Grose reflected, “I don’t think any of us realized how bizarre it was to have a person of his talents waiting tables or waiting the bar. But nobody thought the less of him for doing it. He was as nice as he was good. He was just a heck of a nice guy, a heck of a nice guy.” Dr. Levi Watkins Jr. summarized the unequal dynamic: “Vivien was not a coequal by any stretch of the imagination. So I think the gentlemen both were products of their time. And in an incredible way, complemented each other. But at the same time, kept the constraints.”
Within the corridors of Hopkins, Thomas commanded respect, but his crucial contributions remained largely unknown to the wider world. He received a significant raise, but his lifelong ambition remained unfulfilled. Dr. Richard Scott noted, “He was very confident that he had what it took to become a physician. And he had all of these surgical skills and he was in sort of a real mid-life crisis.” In the fall of 1947, nearing 40, Vivien Thomas enrolled as a freshman at Morgan State College. To become a doctor, he would first need a Bachelor’s degree, then medical school, and four years of residency. He would be over 50 before entering practice. Gwen Manlove Clark, a family friend, recounted the difficult decision: “He had family and children. He knew that he was going to have to let the dream of going back to college go. And that hurt, that was very crushing.” Andrew Manlove concluded, “Vivien wanted to be a doctor. He loved to do research. But that was as close to being a doctor as he could get.”
In April 1960, Alfred Blalock celebrated his 60th birthday. Betty Blalock, his daughter, described the grand event: “The 60th birthday was a grand affair. It was attended by people – doctors from all over the world.” Held at Baltimore’s prestigious Southern Hotel, the celebration drew friends and colleagues from across the globe to honor the leading figure in American surgery.
ALFRED BLALOCK, M.D. (from text of speech): “The sky was never so blue, and the grass so green as they are this day for me. These are my sentiments tonight.”
Over 500 guests attended the gala. Yet, Vivien Thomas was not invited. Friends discreetly arranged for Thomas to observe the festivities from the back of the ballroom. The Southern Hotel, like all major hotels and restaurants in the city, remained segregated. A Black man could not enter through the front door. But the tide of change was rising. In Baltimore, racial barriers were slowly eroding. Across the nation, the Civil Rights Movement was gaining momentum. By 1964, Johns Hopkins began desegregation, integrating wards and staff cafeterias, coinciding with Alfred Blalock’s retirement.
[APPLAUSE]
Betty Blalock described her father’s declining health: “He was in very bad shape. Very – actually they, I don’t think they knew what was the matter with him and they were treating him for a bad back problem. And it turned out he really had cancer.”
ALFRED BLALOCK, M.D. (Archival footage): “Unlike Mayor McKeldin, I fell into the hands of surgeons. [LAUGHTER] And I hope next time I’ll have asthma.”
ALAN C. WOODS JR., M.D.: He was one wonderful man. I don’t know anybody who worked for him who wouldn’t have taken off his right hand and given it to Dr. Blalock if Dr. Blalock had asked him to. Particularly all the left handed guys.
NARRATOR: Blalock’s former residents, calling themselves the Old Hands Club, were now leading surgery departments at top hospitals, pioneering open-heart surgery and heart transplants.
DANDY BLALOCK, Blalock’s son: He was a supreme teacher and that was his joy. More than the awards. That was not what he was really going for at all.
BETTY BLALOCK: But they didn’t hurt.
NARRATOR: This would be Blalock’s final public appearance. He died four months later at 65. Vivien Thomas had lost his friend and partner of the heart of 34 years.
VIVIEN THOMAS (from autobiography): It was so unfortunate that his time was cut off. His mind was still so keen on research. We fought all the time but I think we both thrived on it.
RICHARD SCOTT, M.D.: Mr. Thomas was a very young man at that time. So he had a lot of living to do. And there was a lot of uncertainty as to which direction his career would go into. And I think he had a very unique bond with Dr. Blalock and perhaps he believed this could not be achieved with any other individual.
NARRATOR: Vivien Thomas entered a period of depression. For six years, he avoided major research projects. Then, he forged a new connection. Drawing on his own experiences, he began mentoring the first generation of African Americans at Hopkins. He offered these young students a vision of their potential, becoming more than a teacher – a true mentor. Dr. Richard Scott stated, “He was my initial supporter. It was a result of his encouragement that I was able to persevere in some of my career choices.”
The opportunities for this new generation were vastly different from those Thomas had faced. Dr. Levi Watkins Jr. explained the generational shift: “We were from different eras. He was in the 40s, I was in the 50s and 60s. I had been exposed to Dr. King and the whole civil rights movement. I was looking at what was happening at Hopkins, which was not too different from Alabama, to be honest. And so I was getting outspoken about what we should do about black medical students, interns, residents, faculty, so forth. And in a fatherly fashion, he just wanted me to be cool. And wait for the appropriate times.”
One February morning in 1971, a large crowd gathered at Johns Hopkins. Gwen Manlove Clark described the atmosphere: “And I was trying to sense what was about to happen. There was a sort of positive tension in the room. And they had told us, just matter of factly, we want you to go over to Johns Hopkins with us and something is going to happen; They’re going to make a little presentation and we got over there, and Vivien’s the key person. He’s in the spotlight.” Vivien Thomas stood center stage for the first time. Blalock’s Old Hands Club had commissioned his portrait. They traveled from across the country to honor him. Dr. J. Alex Haller Jr. explained their motivation: “We felt very strongly that Vivien should be hanging on the wall just as some of the other great surgeons in the Hopkins tradition and when I presented that to Vivien, he said oh, no, that’s not appropriate. And I said it’s very appropriate and all of us who have trained here feel that you should be hanging on the wall like these other surgical greats.” Dr. Richard Scott emphasized the significance of the moment: “This was a true recognition, a true recognition by his peers of, of his fantastic contributions to cardiac surgery.”
VIVIEN THOMAS (text from speech): People in my category are not accustomed to being in the limelight as most of you are. Being placed in the position I find myself now makes me feel quite humble. But at the same time, just a little proud.
Valeria Spann, Thomas’s niece, shared her emotional response: “And I tried to pull back and see whom this person really was that I called Uncle V. It was seeing him in a new light and I was just a little speechless and I told him that. That, you know, I just — I was speechless knowing that he had done something of such great importance.” Reporters sought him out, and articles appeared in the local press. Nearing 60, Vivien Thomas finally began receiving the public recognition that had been denied to him for so long.
Graduation Day, May 1976. Vivien Thomas received an honorary doctorate. At the ceremony, he was hailed as “a man in the finest tradition of medicine at Johns Hopkins.” Dr. Koco Eaton recounted the significance of the degree: “Vivien was very proud of the doctorate that he received. And I remember looking at it and thinking, why is it a doctorate of law? Why didn’t they give you a doctorate of medicine? And he explained to me that they’re not allowed to give honorary doctorates of medicine, that they could only give him a doctorate of law. So he has an honorary degree in a doctorate of law from Johns Hopkins.” After 37 years at Hopkins, Thomas was officially recognized as a teacher and appointed to the medical school faculty.
Dr. Rowena Spencer described her emotional reunion: “I only went back to Baltimore once and the only person I was interested in seeing was Vivien. And by this time he had an office in the hospital I guess it was. Perhaps in the medical school building. And when I walked into his office, he was sitting there behind his desk and I wasn’t sure he’d remember me. But he did. He saw me, and he got up and came around the desk and said Rowena! And gave me a big hug. Makes me a little tearful. Isn’t that silly? When I went back for my reunion, the only portrait I wanted to see was Vivien and the minute I saw him, I burst into tears.”
Vivien Thomas retired in 1979. That same year, Levi Watkins joined the medical school admissions committee, and minority enrollment quadrupled within four years. Thomas found immense satisfaction in witnessing the increasing number of Black medical students. His nephew, Koco Eaton, entered Hopkins in 1983. Dr. Koco Eaton shared a poignant memory: “I was a medical student and went over to Vivien’s house [for dinner]. His health wasn’t good and he had suffered a stroke. And it seemed like as, as I was entering into his world, he was passing out of it. And I was looking from inside of his world, as he is sitting on the outside — wanting to bring him back in and really just question him as to how’d you do this, would you do that, where’d this idea come from? And I just really had a million and one questions for him of, you know, this type of technique, that type of technique. I mean, now that I knew, I knew what to ask him. Now I knew an appreciation for him and he was gone.”
Vivien Thomas passed away at 75. Days later, his autobiography, detailing his life’s work with Alfred Blalock, was published. Valeria Spann reflected on his legacy: “I’m sure he recognized that he had done something so important for mankind. And whether he boasted about it or not, he recognized it. I’m sure.” Dr. Levi Watkins Jr. summarized Thomas’s extraordinary impact: “I think the implications are extraordinary. Take a man like this, without much formal anything, that impacts on inventions, and also impacts on the nation’s premiere heart surgeons, I look at him as a global person that rose above the conditions of his time.”
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Dr. Blalock examined the incision. He asked, “Vivien are you sure you did this?”
“This looks like something the Lord made.” Vivien T. Thomas**
Excerpted from his autobiography, Partners of the Heart: Vivien Thomas and His Work with Alfred Blalock.
