Memories of Bob Wagner, my dear friend and colleague:
I was hired as a medical officer in the Radiology Branch of the Office of Device Evaluation in CDRH in October 1996. I am a radiologist and an ex-physicist, if there is such a thing. The first time I saw Bob was at a meeting with a company, and he sat against the wall in an unassuming posture. Someone leaned over and pointed him out to me, saying (paraphrasing), “That’s Bob Wagner. He’s known all over the world for his theoretical contributions to radiological device evaluations.” So naturally I was impressed, but thought, “Who? That quiet fellow?”
On the other hand, not one to pass up an opportunity to have something to tell my grandchildren, I introduced myself to him after the meeting. That began a beautiful friendship, because Bob wore his fame and accomplishments like a watch fob hidden in his vest pocket, with no chain showing.
In fact, sometimes Bob was far too unassuming. I remember asking him early in our acquaintanceship why he had not spoken up at a meeting, when a company’s statistician made some ridiculous statements, for which one of our statisticians and I both took the company’s statistician to task. His answer was basically that he didn’t think he had anything to add. And that was Bob, never one to show off his profound knowledge and comprehension.
On other occasions, he would lean over and ask me in a whisper whether I thought he should raise some point or other. As far as I can remember, my universal answer was, “Of course, you should raise it.” Yet whenever he gave a presentation of his own, his preparation and clarity were inspiring, and his sense of humor was infectious. He was clever, witty, smart, and modest, a rare and winning combination.
In my 7 ½ years at the FDA, Bob and I traded a few e-mails, probably not exceeding a trillion. We rarely saw eye to eye on every aspect of the theoretical problems in our collective work, and while I never lost confidence in my outstanding ability to be in error, I often couldn’t see how I was. In the course of these exchanges, not only did we keep each other chuckling with mutually delightful humor, but I learned a tremendous amount. Indeed learning from Bob was one of the main goals of my taking issue with his point of view. That he tolerated my ponderous thinking processes with generally gracious patience and with continual efforts to help me find the true path, also attests to Bob’s humanity. Perhaps he learned this patience during his brief sojourn as a priest.
Differences between us were all but inevitable — after all, what can you expect from a doctor? But even at that, he would always ask me to critique papers he had drafted, and after coming as close as we could to resolving whatever disagreements we may have had, Bob would generously add my name to the authorship. In fact, he wrote more of my publications than I ever did.
Bob and I exchanged birthday greetings every year, since his birthday was just 4 days after mine (though his birth took place the year before mine). In this, as in virtually everything, I was generally slower than Bob.
My wife, Mimi, and I spent many a pleasant afternoon or evening with Bob and Ellyn, either for dinner at a restaurant or at their house or our house, or for a play. And every January, when pianist and raconteur John Eaton came to Wolf Trap, Bob and Ellyn would take us to see him. Ellyn is also a pianist, as well as a mathematician, and they met while dancing. Indeed after they combined forces on the dance floor, they won medals for their grace and style. They were certainly among our best friends, and as far as we are concerned, they deserved medals for grace and style even off the dance floor.
In the summer of 2004 I retired from the FDA, and Mimi and I moved to Arizona, near Tucson, where I work now doing mammography. By coincidence, Ellyn comes from Tucson, and on their usually twice annual visits to her family, we would always get together. So we’ve seen Bob and Ellyn any number of times in the last 4 years, and just before Bob became sick, he and I had exchanged e-mails on how we would be getting together again soon. That, of course, was not to happen.
Next to my computer stands a much treasured photo of the two of us, arms around each other, that was taken at my retirement dinner, where he delivered a testimonial, not just to me, but to Mimi as well. It was one which, for my part, illustrated not only his kindness and generosity, but also his shameless tendency toward exaggeration.
Mimi and I have both felt deeply the loss of a dear, dear friend, as, I know, have all of you. Bob was no ordinary man. He was a gem of a human being — loving, kind, generous with his time and words, and just an all-around champion. We miss him terribly.
Bill Sacks
August 13, 2008