by Wayne Lerner

9:30 am. It was already 95 degrees with a 1000% humidity. And it was only mid-June.

When I moved to St. Louis from Chicago in 1990 to take my first CEO job at The Jewish Hospital of St. Louis, I traded a lousy winter for an unbearable summer. 3 dress shirts a day to go with my suit. One more when I had an evening function to attend.

I was gazing out the office window past the busy 4 lane Kingshighway bordering Forest Park, a public oasis within the city, larger than Central Park in NY, when my assistant, Jean, came barging in. 

By nature, a very complacent person, she was bouncing out of her shoes with excitement. A cup of coffee in one hand and the mail and my phone messages in the other, she handed me a letter, shouting, “You have a letter from the White House! You need to open it right now. It might be important.”  The daydream about taking a walk on one of the 3 mile paths constructed around the park’s two golf courses would have to wait.

An understatement, for sure. Jean was known to the staff as Miss Reserved. She downplayed whatever crisis we were currently facing. Nothing fazed her. This time was different.

I looked at her like she was crazy. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she exclaimed. 

“Why would the White House send me a letter?” 

“Open the damn letter already! If you don’t, I will!”

I opened the letter. Sure enough, it was an invitation from the First Lady, Hillary Rodham Clinton, to visit the White House. 

Unknown to me, Mrs. Clinton had developed a close relationship with the First Lady of Latvia. She was going to be in DC to attend a special athletic event for people with cognitive and physical disabilities, representing her country. 

Mrs. Clinton’s letter asked us to come to the White House for a signing ceremony initiating a partnership between healthcare centers in the United States and Latvia. The US partners included The Jewish Hospital of St. Louis; our parent organization, the BJC Health System; and our affiliate, Washington University Medical School. 

About a year prior, several members of our medical staff took it upon themselves to convince our management team and Board to establish a relationship with The Jewish Hospital of Riga, Bicur Cholim. The hospital had been seeking international partners to help it meet the pressing needs of its patients. 

As a Republic of the Soviet Union, businesses, including hospitals and medical schools, were owned and operated by the government which spent little time or resources on the health of its population. When Latvia regained its  independence in 1991, these organizations reverted back to community oversight. Given our Mission and commitment to the ideals under which our hospital was founded, we readily agreed. We would be working with the Republic Children’s Hospital, the City Maternity Hospital and Bicur Cholim to address daunting Maternal and Child health needs.

As you might imagine, we were not given a lot of time to prepare for this amazing event. The signing ceremony was to take place in 4 days. 

Jean and I spent the day making phone calls to invite selected individuals to join us in Washington. We could not bring everyone who wanted to attend as the White House gave us a firm limit. Thus, our focus had to be on the physicians who initiated the partnership idea and a few leaders from the hospital and Medical School. 

To avoid any travel delays, we flew to DC the night before the signing. Checking into the hotel, our excitement got the better of us. Sleep did not come easily after a night of eating, drinking and lots of laughing. 

Much to our surprise, some of the Board members were actually quite funny fellows. The chairman of the board went out of his way to needle the CEO about his attendance at work. “You know, Frank, I am convinced that you have never missed a meeting held out of town. In fact, I think you’re a magnet for national and international meetings. I sure hope you’re taking vacation time for all of these boondoggles.”

Frank just smiled as he turned crimson. After all, what else could he do? The truth was the truth. And we all roared in delight to see our boss being taken down a few notches.

Prior to the signing ceremony and at the request of the Latvian Ambassador to the United States, we were to attend a celebratory lunch at the Hay-Adams, a well known and classic hotel.

Arriving at the hotel, we were shown to the Private Dining Room. A long table was set in an elegant style with more silverware and glassware than one normally saw at lunch. We walked past the US and Latvian flags to our seats where engraved name cards had been placed. Each was embossed with the Latvian seal. Candles burned bright from the elaborate candelabras even though it was mid-day. With a view of Lafayette Park and a grand ornamental fireplace dominating the room, each of us felt a sense of awe about the event soon to take place.

When the time drew near for the lunch to begin, we stood behind our chairs as the Latvian delegation entered the room. The First Lady of Latvia and the Ambassador led the entourage followed by various governmental officials.

The First Lady and the Ambassador asked us to be seated as they welcomed us to the luncheon. They thanked The Jewish Hospital physicians for their foresight in initiating the partnership and then spoke, in sweeping terms, about the great things they hoped would happen. 

Due to underfunding and in attention by the prior government, healthcare services were disorganized which allowed significant health issues to arise. Infant mortality had skyrocketed, women were not able to receive adequate prenatal care and children were not able to get the requisite immunizations which made them prone to many diseases. The challenges to fixing the system were daunting.

Before lunch was served, The First Lady asked each of us to introduce ourselves and talk about how the partnership could bring benefit to both countries. The First Lady and the Ambassador were the last to speak. 

The First Lady gave an emotional speech about the historical problems of delivering high quality Maternal and Child health care in Latvia and expressed her delight at what was likely to happen as a result of our new relationship. Then, she turned to the Ambassador who introduced himself and began to give his prepared remarks.

“Welcome, colleagues, my name is Ojars Kalnins. I am thrilled to be here to witness the beginning of a major undertaking for our two countries.”

Ojars Kalnins! There can’t be two people in the world with that name! 

I was in shock. 

The blood drained from my face and I turned pale. The Chairman of The Jewish Hospital Board leaned over and, in a whisper, asked me if I was ill. I was unable to speak.

If I was right, the Ambassador and I attended  Austin High School on the westside of Chicago in the mid 60’s. He was the captain of the track team for both his junior and senior years.

I don’t remember anything he said that day. I was in another world. I looked at him and tried to roll back the years to see if I could recognize him from so long ago. 

What are the odds that I, a lifelong Chicagoan, would leave to take a job in St. Louis; that the Latvian government would move to independence from the Soviet Union around that time; that a partnership would be established between our hospitals and countries; that we would be invited to the White House for a signing ceremony; and that one of the Latvian senior officials hosting the event was someone with whom I had gone to high school many years before? 

Are things pre-ordained or was this fate, serendipity, karma? 

I don’t think it really matters. What was really important is that, through our collective efforts, we were joining together to improve the health of moms and babies in a country which needed our help.

After the luncheon, I approached Ojars and asked, “Mr. Ambassador, what was Austin High School’s mascot?” 

He looked at me, puzzled. He did not recognize me. I laughed and explained our connection. Ojars and I were not close friends, just classmates. It took a minute, then smiles all around, we began to reminisce about our experiences on the west side of Chicago in the ‘60’s. 

“What happened to you during the riots?” I asked. “How did you end up becoming the Ambassador? I have a thousand questions.”

“I was able to avoid the aftermath of the riots because my family moved out of the area about the time I began college at Roosevelt,” Ojars said. “You may not remember but I graduated 6 months before you. While I was born in Munich and came to America when I was 2, my family roots were in Latvia. After getting my degree and working in various capacities, the opportunity came that I could help Latvia establish a new government. As they say, the rest is history. What about you?”

“We didn’t move out of Austin until 1969 when we were finally able to sell our house. We were the last white family on our block. Living there got increasingly dangerous for my family. Needless to say, the impact of the riots are always on my mind. I went to Illinois and then to Michigan for graduate work. How I became a hospital administrator is another story.”

About that time, we had to leave for The White House. The ceremony in the East Room proceeded without incident. Many pictures were taken with our new partners and Mrs. Clinton which were picked up by the national and international media. We were the first such US health care partnership of this kind. I was sure I would never hear or see Ojars again after the ceremony. He said he had to go back to Latvia and I was headed back to St. Louis. 

Now, there’s a lot more to tell about the event at the White House, like how the CEO of the system and I stole monogrammed matches and towels from the White House bathrooms and what happened when I asked the Marine Band to play some Grateful Dead or Moody Blues when I entered the special guest entrance at the White House, but those will have to wait for another day. As will what happened when Ojars and I reestablished our relationship through the Austin High School alumni website just a few months ago.