Local // Houston

Dr. Denton Cooley remembered as a regular guy and towering figure

Denton Cooley remembered for landmark medical work, as well as humor, devotion

Famed heart surgeon Denton Cooley was remembered Monday as a pioneer whose towering achievements masked a regular guy who loved sports and corny jokes and always put his patients first.

In a low-key memorial service at Trinity Episcopal Church, family members told stories about his life behind the headlines and recalled that he'd travel the world, meeting dignitaries and receiving awards, then return to get up early every morning so he could go take care of sick people.

"He never lost sight of his purpose," said Dr. Charles Fraser Jr., Cooley's son-in-law and Texas Children's Hospital's cardiac surgeon-in-chief. "Despite his notoriety, awards and public attention, he remained a dedicated physician throughout his life."

Cooley was laid to rest before the service at Glenwood Cemetery. He died at home on Nov. 18, four weeks after the death of his wife of 67 years, Louise Goldsborough Thomas Cooley. She was 92 and he was 96.

Cooley, who founded the Texas Heart Institute in 1962 and remained its president emeritus until he died, was one of the giants of 20th century medicine. He performed an estimated 65,000 surgeries, most notably the first heart transplant in which the patient lived more than a few weeks and the first implantation of an artificial heart, a landmark achievement Fraser compared to Neil Armstrong walking on the moon.

"Cooley did not hesitate to act when he saw opportunity," said Fraser. "And the world is the beneficiary."

Cooley's understated service contrasted with 2008's farewell events for Michael DeBakey, his one-time partner and longtime rival. DeBakey lay in repose at City Hall the day before a very public service that featured tributes from 11 speakers, most dignitaries, and morphed into a New Orleans-style jazz funeral at the end.

Cooley's service, at the church where he was baptized and confirmed, was just for friends and family, and only Mary Cooley Craddock, his eldest daughter, and Fraser delivered remembrances. Fraser is married to Cooley's youngest daughter, Helen.

Frasers noted that Cooley's rivalry with DeBakey was often referred to as a 40-year feud but said he thought of it as "a competition, the competition that catalyzed the rapid development of heart surgery and established Houston and specifically the Texas Medical Center as the recognized epicenter of cardiovascular medicine."

Fraser added that he never heard Cooley speak negatively about DeBakey, despite his attempts to prod him. A professor at Baylor College of Medicine, Fraser said he never heard DeBakey say anything negative about Cooley either.

Funny, down-to-earth

It was the personal details shared at the service that made Cooley seem alive still - Craddock's memories about the University of Texas brand burned on his chest, his fondness for Queen Elizabeth cocktails, his insistence that his daughters be able to drive a stick shift, change a tire, drive a ski boat.

The most indelible image involved the first time Fraser met Cooley. Newly dating Helen, an unsuspecting Fraser entered the house to find the world's most famous heart surgeon seated on a soft-arm chair with dinner on a TV tray in front of him. Holding the TV remote in one hand and a fork in the other, he took turns feeding himself and the family dog with the same utensil.

Craddock told how Cooley once refused a needed operation on a wrist he broke playing tennis and set himself, arguing the procedure would mean missing days of work. Instead, she said, he had the arm splinted so he could unwrap it and scrub in on his cases.

"It was painful and healed badly," said Craddock, "but he said it allowed him to reach places no other surgeon ever had."

Examples of Cooley's humor flowed freely at the service. Craddock said her father used to call the modest bungalow he grew up in "the manger." Fraser recalled Cooley suggesting he cancel his day's surgery schedule for the safety of his patients after Fraser missed a 3-foot putt in a golf match.

Asked what he wanted for his funeral, recalled Craddock, Cooley told Louise, "I don't know. Why don't you just surprise me?"

'We were so proud'

But Fraser and Craddock also paid tribute to Cooley's public accomplishments.

Craddock talked about the legendary work ethic that kept him at the hospital until late at night. The daughters accepted it, Craddock said, because they knew where he was.

"He was at the hospital saving lives," she said. "We were so proud."

Fraser praised Cooley's vision, radical in the early 1960s, that there should be a center dedicated to the cure of patients with cardiovascular disease. It changed the world, he said.

"There is no doubt in my mind that Dr. Cooley would have been successful in whatever walk of life he chose to pursue," said Fraser. "Humankind was blessed by his choice of medicine as a career and surgery as his focus."