Thomas P. Stossel, MD (1941-2019)

Dr. Thomas Peter Stossel, physician, scientist, author, editor, musician, scholar, and past president of ASH died suddenly and unexpectedly on September 29, 2019. I first met Tom when he and I were hematology fellows almost half a century ago. First impressions are often lasting, which was certainly true with Tom. I was immediately charmed by his sardonic humor, intellect, energy, and curiosity, and feel fortunate that this chance meeting evolved into a lifelong friendship. His passing has created a large void in my life as well as the lives of his family and many friends. I will try here to capture the essence of this remarkable human being.

Tom grew up in the Chicago suburb of Wilmette. He was an outstanding student and a serious wrestler and sailor. This fearless competitive spirit lived on throughout his life. Tom attended Princeton University, majored in English, graduated summa cum laude, and won the prize for the best senior thesis titled “The Medieval Dance of Death.” He then went to Harvard Medical School where, by chance, he met the distinguished hematologist Dr. David Nathan who was his lab section instructor in hematology. David quickly realized Tom’s potential, initiated a several-year recruitment program, and invited him to spend time in the Boston Children’s Hospital hematology division. After completing his residency in internal medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH), Tom went to work in Dr. Martha Vaughn’s laboratory at the National Institutes of Health (NIH). David helped to orchestrate this initial research experience and deftly offered Tom a hematology fellowship at Boston Children’s Hospital.

While a clinical fellow, Tom set up an independent laboratory and began his studies of leukocyte phagocytosis. He developed an elegant technique to quantify phagocytosis and the “killing” of ingested material with Oil Red O droplets containing nitro blue tetrazolium dye substituting for microbes. The distinct red-blue colors allowed quantitative measurement of particle ingestion and activation of the cellular response to ingestion particles. He then turned his attention to the study of what he was fond of calling “how cells crawl.” He and his colleagues, in particular Dr. John Hartwig who had come with him from NIH, made major contributions to cell movement and contractility, discovering two important intracellular regulatory proteins, filamin and gelsolin, which regulate the assembly of actin. In recognition of this important work, Tom was rapidly promoted to professor at Harvard and elected to the National Academy of Sciences. He was also elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and the National Academy of Medicine.

Tom always sought to expand his horizons beyond laboratory science and did so in several ways. First, he left Boston Children’s to accept a position as Chief of Medical Oncology at MGH. Second, he accepted the position of Editor-in-Chief for the Journal of Clinical Investigation. He proudly joined the scientific advisory board of the Cambridge biotech startup Biogen. He also became active in our Society. He won the William Dameshek Prize, delivered the E. Donnall Thomas Lecture, and was elected president of ASH during an important time in the Society’s history. ASH had grown in size, stature, and complexity and needed strong leadership. Tom was proud to have recruited Marty Liggett to serve as executive director, and he also strengthened the government affairs activities of the Society and fostered the restructuring of annual meeting topics and sessions.

I was pleased when some years later he was convinced to move to Brigham and Women’s Hospital, first to lead the Division of Experimental Medicine and then to serve with me as co-chief of hematology. For 25 years, we had adjacent offices and had the pleasure of running our unit together. Tom was fluent in a half dozen languages and read voraciously. His reading list was impressive, usually densely written, important classics. I remember discussing “Don Quixote,” “Arrowsmith,” “Babbitt,” and Fredrick Hayek’s “The Road to Serfdom.” One weekend he said he was going to read “The Iliad.” I hesitated to ask if this was the original version in ancient Greek or an English translation.

Although he kept his lab program open well into his 70s, he developed a strong interest in fostering ties between academia and the pharmaceutical industry. He became well known for numerous op-eds, his lucid lectures, and a scholarly book on the subject, and cofounded biotechnology company Bio Aegis, devoted to developing plasma gelsolin into a therapeutic agent. He also honed a keen interest in global health and, with his wife Dr. Kerry Maguire, a public health dentist, formed a dental and medical outreach program in Zambia, Options for Children in Zambia. With Kerry’s guidance, Tom became proficient at varnishing children’s teeth with fluoride — a skill not shared by many other hematologists. He also helped establish a sickle cell screening program and a rural birthing center. Tom and Kerry visited the country several times a year, and adopted their daughter, Tamara Sakala-Stossel, from Zambia. 

I would be remiss if I did not mention Tom’s musical talents. He was a Bach aficionado and played piano and keyboard flawlessly. At Princeton, he was in a rock band. He also composed the music for the second-year show at Harvard Medical School. Recently, his graduating class reprised the musical at their 50th reunion.

Tom is survived by his wife Kerry; his three children Scott, Sage, and Tammy; his brother John; and his grandchildren. Tom would also include here the beloved feline members of his family. Tom will be missed by his family and his vast group of professional colleagues and friends. Two memorial services were held for him, and his ashes were scattered on Wellfleet Bay near his summer home. Tom was one of the smartest people I had the privilege of knowing. He was youthful, energetic, and fully engaged in his personal and professional lives until the moment of his passing. Many of us thought he was immortal. Unfortunately for us, he was not.

—Robert I. Handin, MD, Harvard Institutes of Medicine, Boston, MA