Dean Robertson Tribute

The passing of a legend…

Great leaders forge new paths. In the Broadway play “Man of La Mancha” Don Quixote sings the famous song “The Impossible Dream.” He sings this song in response to Dulcinea’s question regarding his life’s “quest” — why are you here? The song is so familiar that almost all of us will know at least some if not all of the words. In the end, by fighting the good fight, the great knight Don Quixote could go to eternity with a pure heart and a clear conscience for having done his best.

In some ways, Dr. Joseph Dean (“Dean”) Robertson’ life resembled that of Don Quixote’s quest. Dean truly had a heart for the pure service of children’s oral health and I believe that’s exactly what his “quest” on this planet was meant to be. He was a voice of reason and compassion for a new and untried profession, formed at a time when children’s dental health meant little to anyone. When pediatric dentistry became a specialty, he was one of the first to step up and champion the cause for children’s dental health in Oklahoma. He continued to be that voice in 1948 when he and seven other regional pediatric dentists formed the group now known as the Southwestern Society of Pediatric Dentistry. And he continued to be that advocate to the day he retired at the age of 92, sixty-three years after starting his practice.

Those of us who were trained by Dean know what an exceptional teacher he was. In fact, he was exactly what a professor should be – extremely knowledgeable, compassionate for the learner yet holding high expectations for performance. The welfare of the child was his primary focus. A very close second, though, was making sure the student understood their professional role in striving to provide excellence in care. And he never stopped learning himself. Soon after arriving here at the College, I found myself sitting with a box of articles that he had copied. He had hand-written comments on almost every single article. Some comments were questioning in nature, some “a-ha’s”, some simply noting that the author had made a good point. What fascinated me was the time frame over which he had collected these articles. Without him having to tell me, I realized at that point exactly what the term “lifelong learning” really meant.

Fate smiled upon me when it brought three giants of pediatric dentistry into my professional life. Dean, first, and then Suzie Seale and Paul P. Taylor. All were Baylor graduates, close colleagues and either directly or indirectly taught each other at various times in their careers. I remember how excited I was when I told Dean that I’d been accepted to the residency program at Baylor and how very highly he spoke of Suzie and Paul. All had a palpable zeal for treating children, which even in retirement they never lost. Yesterday, Dean passed at the age of 101. Though all three are now gone, the value of their experience and wisdom cannot be calculated.

My “impossible” dream is to live up to the standards they sat. Without a doubt, it’s a life long and very worthy quest.