Walter Felson

(1908-1980)

Related documents:

• Walter’s war letters
• Ros’s letters to Walter
• Judy’s letters to Walter
• Essay: Walter at War
• Biography of Roslyn Marcus Felson
• A diagnostic evaluation of Walter’s voice, from a conversation between Walter and Ben about a patient of Walter’s

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Remembering Walter Felson (1908-1980)

Judy Duchan and Elaine Vanzant
January 25, 2025

Elaine Vanzant and I sat down on September 17, 2002, in a cozy restaurant at Martha’s Vineyard, where we were vacationing, and wrote some notes about our father, Walter Felson. Here is one version, Judy’s, of what we remembered together. 

Our father loved kids; he was a hands-on dad. We remember his active involvement, his hearty laugh as he engaged us in rough-play and enjoyed us exploring our newfound world. Elaine remembers a prewar picture of us as youngsters (dad’s word) climbing in the woods with daddy, as we called him then. He was dressed in his office clothes, but didn’t seem to mind getting them muddy. Judy remembers him encouraging her to handle snakes, bats, and insects, to climb cliffs, and to swim in the deep water. he paid no heed to the social climate and mother’s admonitions that would have us proceed more  cautiously.



Our parents took lots of trips—they both loved to travel. We went to medical meetings with him, traveled across the country, and, in later years traveled in Europe. They always took us. We remember that he kept a log of our adventures–written in his tiny, meticulous hand, on those 3 X 5 note cards. There was lots of information on those cards, much of it about what things cost, and who we met. We also remember one of his first acts when going to a new place was to look for the Rotary sign, to see when and where he could attend a meeting, so that he wouldn’t break his perfect attendance record.



No one could accuse our father of being indecisive. He made fast decisions and stuck to them. Indeed, he was fast and emphatic in all that he did, to mother’s chagrin. This included his driving, his moving, his decisions, his talk, his arguing. Our boyfriends were in awe of him. David Sommers, one of Judy’s first boy friends went on house calls with our father (and Judy) and years later told us that he saw our dad as a sort of father substitute. Paul Wisecup another boy friend of Judy’s attended Rotary, and worked toward perfect attendance following dad’s example. Elaine remembers Dad flicking the lights on the side porch, signaling her to come in and her boy friend to go home. We remember him asking one or two of our dates whether they had a home, when he felt them overstaying their welcome.



Our father was a wonder physician. He called himself a “country doc” and knew his patients well. Elaine remembers him crying when he got the results of Jeff Wilkins’ blood test, it was leukemia. He was often brusque with his patients, scolding them if they didn’t follow his advice. His office was part of our house, and people often rang the front door in the middle of the night. He agreed to see them, but was harsh with them if they had led things go for too long before contacting him. Judy remembers his special anger with patients with day-old strep throats that wanted to taken care of right away–at 2 am! The favorite part of his practice was “OB.” He loved delivering babies, and often spoke of the miracle of birth.



Dad was a meticulous record keeper. He wrote everything down in his “books.” The names of all of his patients, their date of visit, their complaint, the medicines he prescribed, etc. He had gone to pharmacy school before he went to medical school, so he was able to pay his medical tuition by working as a pharmacist. He dispensed his own medication–from a tiny room in his office. Judy and Elaine often were asked to go to that room and count pills, putting them in those little envelopes with dad’s name on them. People still wish they had some of Dad’s famous “pink medicine” that worked much better than the new fashioned Peptol Bismol.


There is a plot of land in our hometown of Greenfield, Ohio, a town of 5,000 people. It is called Felson Park, named after our father. He donated the land to the town, in the hopes that it would be used as a baseball diamond (which it wasn’t). He also worked hard to develop a space for teenagers to hang out. Finally, he and some others in Greenfield worked to start a nursing home for the elderly. He was very “civic minded”—as mother would say.



Then there was the war. Dad was a captain of a medical company and spent much of the second world war in Italy taking care of the wounded and sick. He loved “his boys” and kept in touch with them long after the war was over. He wrote a newsletter that he called “The Snafu Times” (Situation normal, all fouled up). It reported what was going on with his family and with those he was in touch with. He was overseas for 2 1/2 years, and wrote home daily about his experiences there. The Felson relatives still talk about those wonderful war letters that created such a vivid picture of what was going on over there. (Check the letters elsewhere on this website, along with Judy’s “unbuttoned, illustrated” story of Walter’s war experiences.) 



Dad’s patients still miss him. Elaine, who lives near our old home town, Greenfield, Ohio, often gets stopped by adults who dad “brought into this world.” She has people showing traces of her father’s work, like a scarred finger, that dad had sewed back on.


Our father died at home of a heart condition on June 1, 1980 at 72.  Lots of his former patients still talk about him, enjoying remembering his attributes and foibles.  We do too, with love.