My Memory of Dr. Charles Kelman, Cataract Surgery Pioneer—and Saxophonist!
It must have been about 1981 or 1982, during my years as a music professor at Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts, that I got a call from one of the deans in the administration. He explained to me that one of the most famous doctors in the world was a Tufts graduate who had a strong interest in music. The Dean's hope was that we could present this person as a musician on the campus and that the doctor would be so grateful that he would give a big donation to the music department.
As you can tell from the title of this essay, the doctor was Charles Kelman, the inventor of modern cataract surgery. You can watch a documentary about Kelman here. Before Dr. Kelman, cataract surgery was an ordeal, but his technique is quick and painless, and it is now one of the most common surgeries performed in the world. But Dr. Kelman's first love was music, and in fact, he was absolutely intending to become a professional saxophonist. He enrolled in medical school but was still hoping for a music career, until his father was diagnosed with cancer. At that point, he decided to dedicate himself more fully to medicine, which is what his father had always wanted. (His father died in 1956.)
Still, Dr. Kelman managed to maintain a performing schedule even during his very busy medical career, from private performances to appearances on national TV programs such as, in 1975, The Tonight Show. Here he is on the Merv Griffin Show, playing “All the Things You Are”—this excerpt begins at the bridge:
And here are photos of him with Dizzy Gillespie and with Lionel Hampton:
(These photos and the video are courtesy of Dr. Kelman’s daughter, Lesley Kelman Koeppel.)
The dean asked me, the next time I was going to be back in New York City, to attend one of Dr. Kelman's performances and introduce myself. It was held in a ballroom at a hotel. It was a lively scene, with probably close to 200 people, and I gathered that they were mostly former patients, with their families and friends. Dr. Kelman went on stage with his saxophone. He was accompanied by a band—I forget how many instruments—and he had a music director who conducted the group. It was a show, not a concert, complete with jokes. From the documentary, here’s a sample:
Yes, this famous and clearly brilliant doctor performed a full show complete with “shtick”—old fashioned, sometimes corny jokes. Dr. Ron Odrich, who gives a short commentary in the clip above, is a periodontist who is also a high level jazz-clarinetist, and a long-time friend of Kelman. As he says, among fellow doctors, Kelman’s act might “make you squirm,” but they accepted it because they knew his lively personality. At the show I saw, his first number was “Chuck the Knife” (Chuck being a nickname for Charles), which he sung to the tune of “Mack the Knife,” while a slideshow of surgery photos was shown on a screen behind him!
After the show, I spoke briefly with Dr. Kelman about his musical requirements. All I really had to do was to provide the student musicians from the Tufts band, and his music director would take care of the rest. From that point, I only had to show up at the evening performance. James Marcus, today a Ph.D. engineer who teaches at Fordham University., was then a saxophonist in the student jazz band. He remembers that day:
That was a fun gig for me, as my grandmother was his patient in N.Y.C. I believe that the whole jazz band was involved, not a just a small group. The doctor had his own musical director who traveled with him. We did have one rehearsal—probably that afternoon. I don't think the doctor was there for that. The music we played supported his presentation and included the schtick songs with lyrics. The music books we got were well put together, maybe even bound. We were treated like local professionals for the gig.
As for the other band members, I’m not sure, but I think that Greg Jones was on bass and Clark Waterfall on drums, among others. (If any of you were on that gig, please let me know.)
But, in planning the event, the Dean made a major error—he had made no arrangements to get students to attend. At the performance, held in a dressed-up dining hall I believe, I saw a handful of students—maybe 10, if I recall correctly, and the Dean asked me to sit with him at his V.I.P. table, which hosted about another ten people. That was it as far as the audience. Once again, Dr. Kelman began with “Chuck the Knife.” As he got into his shtick, he told a joke that was a bit “off color.” At this point the Dean became embarrassed and said, loud enough for me to hear, “I can’t believe I arranged for this.”
After the show, I went up to thank the Doctor. “Where were the students?,” he asked right away. I said, “I don’t know—the Dean’s office was supposed to be promoting this.” He was very disappointed, and indicated that the only reason he did the show was in order to entertain what he had hoped would be a large and enthusiastic group of students. I walked with him back to his limousine, which was waiting outside. We both sat inside it for a minute, and he said to me, “You know, I never would give money to the music program anyway. If I give money, it’ll be for the Tufts medical school. Even at this performance, I was hoping to get students interested in careers in medicine. I am a doctor, after all.” And with that we said goodnight.
So it was all for nothing! But, forty years later, I became one of the millions whose eyesight has been saved as a result of Dr. Kelman’s brilliance. I experienced his cataract surgery method in December 2022. Probably many of you have had it as well. It was amazing. It seemed that the doctor (Andrew Schwartz on Fifth Avenue) simply waved his arms in front of my face, and then it was over. My eyesight is vastly improved, and I only need glasses now for driving and a few other situations. And when I tell my eye doctors that I met Dr. Kelman, they are always interested and amazed to hear this story.
All the best,
Lewis
P.S. Special thanks to Dr. Kelman’s daughter, Lesley Kelman Koeppel, for help with this essay. You can read her memory of her father here. Also thanks to James Marcus, and to Steven and Gina Frederick.
A lot of people don't realize just how much Kelman revolutionized eye surgery. Prior to his development, the surgery involved making a 180 degree cut around the edge of the cornea, pull out the entire lens and then stitch up the incision. You would have a hospital stay of at least a week, run the risk of infection, and wind up being very farsighted, having to wear special "cataract" glasses or contacts, and the stitches would contract developing a large amount of astigmatism. I used to take care of such patients in my younger years.
If you look at pictures of Ella Fitzgerald in her later years, you'll see the glasses she wore post cataract extraction.
Now cataract extraction is akin to in-and-out burger. 10 to 20 people are appointed on one day for the surgery. A surgical center is contracted, and the surgeon goes from person to person with his team and you go home that day, see the surgeon a day or two later, then a week later and your done. And with modern technology that Kelman didn't have, the correct lens replacement can be made far more accurately, you can correct for astigmatism and can even opt for a multifocal. But Kelman's technique still is the foundation for all that subsequent technology.
As a 48 year practicing Optometrist, I tell all my patients who are about to undergo cataract surgery about the Kelman Technique that they are about to have and how this ophthalmologist revolutionized cataract surgery and that his technique still being used today and every day. And, just as importantly, that he was a great saxophonist.