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In Memoriam: Dr. John Dillon '48
The Gonzaga community mourns the passing of Dr. John Dillon of the Gonzaga Class of 1948. A longtime doctor at Georgetown Hospital, Dr. Dillon was a devoted alumnus and generous supporter of Gonzaga.
Printed below is the citation that was read when Dr. Dillon was awarded the St. Al's Medal -- Gonzaga's highest honor -- in 2014. As we reflect on Dr. Dillon's distinguished career and example of selfless service, we join all those who are mourning his loss. May God grant him eternal rest.
Please note: We will update this page when funeral arrangements are announced and an obituary is published.
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As demanding as he was in the classroom, doctors remember him as being even more exacting in the operating room. In fact, there’s the story of a doctor who at the conclusion of one surgery asked, “So, Dr. Dillon, how would you like the sutures this time? Too small or too big?”
At home, his six children remember that mom took care of the house, because dad’s job was late nights, seven days a week with calls to come into the hospital at any time, even Christmas morning. In addition to the hospital, there was another place for whom Dr. Dillon was always on call, and that was back at Gonzaga, where it all began.
When Father Bernie Dooley came to Gonzaga in the mid 1970’s to resuscitate our struggling school, he appealed to a core group of alumni to help him. Over the years Father would refer to these men—about two dozen in all—as “true believers in Jesuit education on Eye Street.”
Dr. John Dillon was one of those core true believers in Gonzaga, and he has remained so since his own graduation. His ongoing devotion and generosity to his alma mater that began in one golden era for the school has helped bring the school into another.
Mary Dillon Kerwin, Dr. Dillon’s daughter and mother of Joseph Kerwin of the Gonzaga Class of 2009, remembers her dad as glowing with pride the day he returned from the Gonzaga graduation ceremony on the occasion of the Class of 1948 50th jubilee reunion. Mary also says that, “He wore the blue and gray of Georgetown to work every day, but his heart has always bled purple.” (And no suture big or small could ever stop that.)
So maybe the comparison to the great Lombardi is a fair one. Yes, he was tough. And, yes, he had unshakeable belief in his old school ways. He also produced champions...whose jobs it would be to save lives.
Dr. Dillon, tonight it is your alma mater’s deep privilege to join the many others who have honored you by bestowing upon you the St. Aloysius Medal for Service to School and Community.
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Printed below is the citation that was read when Dr. Dillon was awarded the St. Al's Medal -- Gonzaga's highest honor -- in 2014. As we reflect on Dr. Dillon's distinguished career and example of selfless service, we join all those who are mourning his loss. May God grant him eternal rest.
Please note: We will update this page when funeral arrangements are announced and an obituary is published.
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When John Dillon arrived on Eye Street as a freshman in the fall of 1944, the remnants of the Great Depression were still being felt, and our nation was at war. Nearly half of the previous year’s graduating class had enlisted and were already scattered throughout world serving in the armed forces, as were hundreds of the school’s alumni.
Gonzaga was well known throughout the D.C. Metropolitan area for rigorous academic standards. The athletic teams were often local champions and even, on occasion, nationally recognized. The school’s educators were primarily—but not entirely—Jesuits. Their impact on their students and those times have made their names legends that live on around Eye Street even today: Names like Father Cornelius Herlihy, S.J., Father John Bellwoar, S.J., and Coach Joseph Stanley Kozik. By all accounts, they were tough men, who demanded excellence and got it. They produced scholars deeply steeped in their Catholic faith, who would go out and serve as leaders in a tough world.
Journalist Tom Brokaw in his best-selling book referred to this era’s Americans as “The Greatest Generation.” In Gonzaga lore, these years have been called the school’s Golden Era, and they were defined by the accomplishments of alumni like Dr. John Dillon of the Class of 1948.
His classmates remembered him in the 1948 Aetonian, the school’s yearbook as, “having no problem with academics.” Maybe that was because John spent many of his after-school hours over at the Library of Congress, where he was enthralled with the Library’s massive collection. Only after hours and hours of reading would he then take the streetcar home. What he did not know was that on that same streetcar was someone who worked at the Library of Congress, and who had watched John day after day pouring over books. Finally, one day that gentleman tapped John on the shoulder and said, “Boy, you’re going to grow up to be a doctor.”
And, boy, what a doctor he became.
After graduating Cum Laude from Georgetown University, he would go on to Georgetown Medical School and graduate Magna Cum Laude.
His postgraduate work began at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri, where he served as an Intern in Surgery, Assistant Resident Surgeon, and Resident Surgeon. From 1958 to 1963 his advancement through the medical profession would take him back and forth between St. Louis and the National Cancer Institute at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda. It was there at NIH that he met a nurse named Mary Frances Kelly. They would get married and raised six children: Patrick, Mary, Margaret, Elizabeth, Anne, and John, Gonzaga Class of 1986.
In 1963, he came to Georgetown University Hospital and began a 57-year career as a surgeon, administrator, and educator that is so all-encompassing that it is best described by highlighting the many accolades he earned.
He was awarded the John Carroll Medal and the Georgetown University Founders Medal. He is a member of the Georgetown University School of Medicine Magis Society. The inscription accompanying the list of honorees reads, “They are our heroes, our master teachers, our mentors, and our role models.” In 2008 Dr. Dillon was installed into the Magis Society with the following citation:
“He joined the Georgetown faculty in 1964 as Director of the Surgical Metabolism Laboratory. He was deeply involved in teaching and served as clerkship director of surgery for 29 years. His Saturday morning classes were the stuff of legend. The John S. Dillon Award is given annually by the Department of Surgery to a faculty member for excellence in medical teaching.”
By the time he finally retired in the year 2000, he had instructed nearly 5,000 doctors. In fact, it is fair to guess that everyone in this room tonight has at some time, and in some way had their lives touched by a physician taught by Dr. John Dillon. And because there are so many of them, it wasn’t hard finding doctors who were willing to share a story of two about him. And what with all the accolades and awards, wouldn’t it be fair for us to imagine him as a sort of benevolent and cuddly-Dr. Marcus Welby, MD in a bow tie type of doctor?
Well, apparently not.
A Gonzaga graduate from the Class of 1984 who took Dr. Dillon’s class recently told us—on the condition that he remain anonymous—Marcus Welby? Oh my God. Try Vince Lombardi!
The reason his Saturday morning classes were the stuff of legend was that you had better come prepared. One doctor described those classes as being like Russian Roulette. “Because you never really knew if you were going to be called upon. So you had to be prepared. And if you weren’t, you were dead.”
Gonzaga was well known throughout the D.C. Metropolitan area for rigorous academic standards. The athletic teams were often local champions and even, on occasion, nationally recognized. The school’s educators were primarily—but not entirely—Jesuits. Their impact on their students and those times have made their names legends that live on around Eye Street even today: Names like Father Cornelius Herlihy, S.J., Father John Bellwoar, S.J., and Coach Joseph Stanley Kozik. By all accounts, they were tough men, who demanded excellence and got it. They produced scholars deeply steeped in their Catholic faith, who would go out and serve as leaders in a tough world.
Journalist Tom Brokaw in his best-selling book referred to this era’s Americans as “The Greatest Generation.” In Gonzaga lore, these years have been called the school’s Golden Era, and they were defined by the accomplishments of alumni like Dr. John Dillon of the Class of 1948.
His classmates remembered him in the 1948 Aetonian, the school’s yearbook as, “having no problem with academics.” Maybe that was because John spent many of his after-school hours over at the Library of Congress, where he was enthralled with the Library’s massive collection. Only after hours and hours of reading would he then take the streetcar home. What he did not know was that on that same streetcar was someone who worked at the Library of Congress, and who had watched John day after day pouring over books. Finally, one day that gentleman tapped John on the shoulder and said, “Boy, you’re going to grow up to be a doctor.”
And, boy, what a doctor he became.
After graduating Cum Laude from Georgetown University, he would go on to Georgetown Medical School and graduate Magna Cum Laude.
His postgraduate work began at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri, where he served as an Intern in Surgery, Assistant Resident Surgeon, and Resident Surgeon. From 1958 to 1963 his advancement through the medical profession would take him back and forth between St. Louis and the National Cancer Institute at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda. It was there at NIH that he met a nurse named Mary Frances Kelly. They would get married and raised six children: Patrick, Mary, Margaret, Elizabeth, Anne, and John, Gonzaga Class of 1986.
In 1963, he came to Georgetown University Hospital and began a 57-year career as a surgeon, administrator, and educator that is so all-encompassing that it is best described by highlighting the many accolades he earned.
He was awarded the John Carroll Medal and the Georgetown University Founders Medal. He is a member of the Georgetown University School of Medicine Magis Society. The inscription accompanying the list of honorees reads, “They are our heroes, our master teachers, our mentors, and our role models.” In 2008 Dr. Dillon was installed into the Magis Society with the following citation:
“He joined the Georgetown faculty in 1964 as Director of the Surgical Metabolism Laboratory. He was deeply involved in teaching and served as clerkship director of surgery for 29 years. His Saturday morning classes were the stuff of legend. The John S. Dillon Award is given annually by the Department of Surgery to a faculty member for excellence in medical teaching.”
By the time he finally retired in the year 2000, he had instructed nearly 5,000 doctors. In fact, it is fair to guess that everyone in this room tonight has at some time, and in some way had their lives touched by a physician taught by Dr. John Dillon. And because there are so many of them, it wasn’t hard finding doctors who were willing to share a story of two about him. And what with all the accolades and awards, wouldn’t it be fair for us to imagine him as a sort of benevolent and cuddly-Dr. Marcus Welby, MD in a bow tie type of doctor?
Well, apparently not.
A Gonzaga graduate from the Class of 1984 who took Dr. Dillon’s class recently told us—on the condition that he remain anonymous—Marcus Welby? Oh my God. Try Vince Lombardi!
The reason his Saturday morning classes were the stuff of legend was that you had better come prepared. One doctor described those classes as being like Russian Roulette. “Because you never really knew if you were going to be called upon. So you had to be prepared. And if you weren’t, you were dead.”
As demanding as he was in the classroom, doctors remember him as being even more exacting in the operating room. In fact, there’s the story of a doctor who at the conclusion of one surgery asked, “So, Dr. Dillon, how would you like the sutures this time? Too small or too big?”
At home, his six children remember that mom took care of the house, because dad’s job was late nights, seven days a week with calls to come into the hospital at any time, even Christmas morning. In addition to the hospital, there was another place for whom Dr. Dillon was always on call, and that was back at Gonzaga, where it all began.
When Father Bernie Dooley came to Gonzaga in the mid 1970’s to resuscitate our struggling school, he appealed to a core group of alumni to help him. Over the years Father would refer to these men—about two dozen in all—as “true believers in Jesuit education on Eye Street.”
Dr. John Dillon was one of those core true believers in Gonzaga, and he has remained so since his own graduation. His ongoing devotion and generosity to his alma mater that began in one golden era for the school has helped bring the school into another.
Mary Dillon Kerwin, Dr. Dillon’s daughter and mother of Joseph Kerwin of the Gonzaga Class of 2009, remembers her dad as glowing with pride the day he returned from the Gonzaga graduation ceremony on the occasion of the Class of 1948 50th jubilee reunion. Mary also says that, “He wore the blue and gray of Georgetown to work every day, but his heart has always bled purple.” (And no suture big or small could ever stop that.)
So maybe the comparison to the great Lombardi is a fair one. Yes, he was tough. And, yes, he had unshakeable belief in his old school ways. He also produced champions...whose jobs it would be to save lives.
Dr. Dillon, tonight it is your alma mater’s deep privilege to join the many others who have honored you by bestowing upon you the St. Aloysius Medal for Service to School and Community.
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