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Wayne State
University
award honors
family doctor
George Mogul!.

Dr. Magill and his wife,
Irma, a gourmet chef.

113

octors pronounced George
Mogill dead three times, but the
Detroit native bounced back to
become a physician in his own
right. Now, at 77, Dr. Mogill is a
self-proclaimed fitness nut and
drives that point home to his stu-
dents on the squash court.
"A body is like a machine," he says. "You'll
rust out before you wear out."
That is, unless you exercise. Every morn-
ing at 6 a.m., Dr. Mogill meets his medical
students, racquet in hand, for a game of
squash at the old Jewish Community Cen-
ter on Curtis and Meyers in Detroit. After
that sunrise challenge, he and his band of
sleepless third-years traipse over to Grace
Hospital to see patients.
"I pontificate a little," he says, "and then
we go to the office."

Dr. Mogill, a Wayne State University pro-
fessor, practices and teaches at the Grace
Family Practice Medical Center in Royal
Oak. Over the years, he has purchased more
than 180 squash racquets for his young com-
petitors — all WSU and University of Michi-
gan medical students doing family practice
rotations.
In addition to exercise, Dr. Mogill aims to
offer students a clear understanding of what
being a family practitioner is all about.

"I have a catechism — if you'll allow the
term — that I use with medical students,"
he says. "I ask them all: What is the most im-
portant thing a doctor must be?"
Conscientious and learned are typical re-
sponses, but Dr. Mogill begs to differ.
"The most important thing," he says, "is
you've got to be available. Because if a doc-
tor isn't available, everything else doesn't
mean a darned thing."
Next, a doctor must listen to what his pa-
tients say and don't say, and he must be
knowledgeable about what he knows and
doesn't know.
"And if you don't know," Dr. Mogill ad-
monishes, "you better know where to look."
Trademarks of a memorable family doe —
who is loving, caring and understanding with
a dash of wit — fall into place so long as these
preliminaries are covered, Dr. Mogill says.
To honor this maverick, squash-playing
M.D., the WSU School of Medicine has cre-
ated the "George Mogill Family Medicine
Award" to benefit a senior student pursuing
family practice.
"George Magill is the finest example of a
caring family physician," says Dr. Paul Wern-
er, chairman of WSU's department of fami-
ly medicine. "(He) is not retiring, but our
faculty and his friends want to let him know
how much he means to us."
Fifty-plus years of medical practice might
never have happened if, in 1936, Dr. Mogill
had died at Detroit Receiving Hospital.
That year, he made national headlines for
swallowing a temporary dental bridge that
pierced his esophagus.
"Oh, I was big-time stuff," the doctor re-
calls.
Doctors thrice pronounced the 17-year-old
boy dead, but Dr. Morris Greenberg, "a won-
derful guy," sustained him by pounding on
his chest.
Eight weeks later, "Mogill Lives" were the
words in lights over New York's Times
Square. Physicians at Temple University in
Philadelphia successfully completed the pre-
carious surgery. To safely retrieve the bridge,
they cut through the neck, dodged the voice
box and, to Dr. Mogill's relief, severed no vo-
cal chords.
"Can you imagine me not speaking for the
past 50 years?" asks the man of few minced
words.
Dr. Mogill entered Wayne University Med-
ical School in 1937. He completed a medical
internship at Wayne County General Hos-
pital, followed by a year of residency at
Blaine. To enlist as a physician in World War
II, Dr. Mogill lied about his eyesight and
served for two years overseas.

RUTH LITTMANN

STAFF WRITER

On July 28,
1952, dining a va-
cation to Boston,
Dr. Mogill met
Irma Traibman
through his sister-in-
law. That same day,
he proposed mar-
riage. Irma had been forewarned by this sis-
ter-in-law that Dr. Mogill was a good man,
a really good catch — just a bit eccentric.
Irma told Dr. Mogul his proposal was in-
sane. So Dr. Mogill returned to Detroit, but
one month later, on Labor Day, he tried
again.
He said: Will you many me?
She said: Yeah, but I don't love you.
He said: How can you love me? You don't
even know me.
She said: I like you.
He said: What do you like?
She said: I like your friends. I like what
you stand for. I like who you are. I like what
they tell me you are.
He said: In three years you'll love me ...
It didn't take three years. George and Irma
married that year and have since had three
children and a number of grandchildren.
As for family medicine, Dr. Mogill has
earned kudos all along the way. In 1968, the
magazine Medical Economics featured his
work as its cover story. He was one of the
first physicians in the nation to become cer-
tified in family practice. In 1981, he was elect-
ed to the Wayne State Chapter of Alpha
Omega Alpha Medical Society. And in 1992,
Detroit Monthly selected him as the only fam-
ily physician to make its list of "top doctors"
in the Detroit area.
This year, Dr. Mogill was made a full clin-
ical professor in the department of family
medicine. The medical school senior class se-
lected him as the best clinical teacher.
"Countless numbers of medical students
have gone through that office, but he is still
as fresh as he can be. He's got a lot of en-
thusiasm," said Dr. Philip Beron, a radia-
tion-oncologist and former student of Dr.
Mogill. "He is an example of what a great
doctor should be."
Over the years, Dr. Mogill has helped thou-
sands of patients, as well. He served as chief
of family practice at Grace Hospital until he
turned 67. Since then, he has remained ac-
tive at the affiliated office in Royal Oak where
he teaches. After hours and during holidays,
he and Irma lend new meaning to family
practice by inviting the aspiring M.D.s to their
Birmingham home for meals and simchahs.
"We take them home a couple nights a
week and we feed them," he says. "We teach
them a little Talmud. My wife does all the
cooking. She's unreal.
"I have a fabulous life. Fabulous family.
Fabulous children. Fabulous friends. I'm a
little redundant with that term. But I can
still play squash and practice and teach. For (
a man who is 77 years old," he says, "I am
very blessed." Ill

