Plan B Casualties
By RINKER BUCK
October 2, 2005
Dr. Frank Davidoff is a gray-haired and erudite internist who lives quietly in a modest Tudor-style house just off the historic district in Wethersfield. At 71, genial and fit, he would strike most people as central casting's choice for the role of editor emeritus of a distinguished medical journal, which in fact he is.
As he discusses his career - Harvard College, Columbia Medical School, then teaching stints at Harvard and the University of Connecticut before becoming editor of the Annals of Internal Medicine - a well-behaved corgi sits at the foot of the couch in his living room, which is as spotless and well-appointed as an Ethan Allen furniture ad. From the kitchen, the sweet scent of the bread he is baking wafts through the house.
A month ago, however, Davidoff joined that select if historic list of public servants who would rather rebel than stand by while their professional standards are violated by the government of the United States. If letters of resignation can be considered an art form, the spare, five-paragraph missive that Davidoff sent to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration set a standard for minimalist impact.
Click here to read the full article "Plan B Casualties" in the Hartford Courant.
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