“The Class of 1933 can still grow roses in dry weather” (Princeton Alumni Weekly, September 26, 2007). These were Josh Billings’ ( Pennsylvania and Balliol ’33) last words as the secretary of his Princeton Class. This defiant note describing the determination of his nearly 100-year old classmates to make their great age a garden of roses was printed posthumously. Surely it can stand as a fitting epitaph for one of the most unselfish, hard-working, and supremely competent Rhodes Scholars. Much more than a mere transcriber of notes from his classmates, Josh’s wise and well-written observations gained for him national notice something of a phenomenon among the profession of alumni class secretaries. Both his skills and the longevity of his tenure as secretary of the Princeton Class of 1933 brought him national attention when, in 2003, the New York Times ran a lengthy profile about him, his scribal service to his class, and his public service career as a doctor, as a teacher, and as a worker for social justice. Josh Billings shared his dedication to his Rhodes classmates as well, serving as the secretary of the Rhodes Scholars class from 1982 until his death on September 16, 2007.

Born on February 22, 1912, Tremaine Billings (who ever called him that? We all knew him as “Josh”, a nickname taken from the famous humorist of the time) was named for his father, a physician in Pittsburgh. After graduating from the Choate School, he went to Princeton University where he was the epitome of the scholar-athlete. He lettered in lacrosse, wrestling, and football, and was selected captain of the Princeton football team in his senior year. For his achievements, the University awarded him the Pyne Honor Prize, Princeton’s highest distinction for an undergraduate. Elected to Phi Beta Kappa, he was elected a Rhodes Scholar in the class of 1933. As a member of Balliol College, he read for the Bachelor of Science degree in medicine, which he completed in 1936. Once again labs and classrooms could not hold him, in spite of his easy success in those arenas. He played lacrosse for the University against Cambridge in 1936 and was a member of Vincent’s. Josh Billings’ athletic ability was recognized in 2000 when Princeton named him their “outstanding scholarathlete of the century.”

After Oxford, Josh Billings went to Johns Hopkins for his medical education, taking his M.D. in 1938. He went to Vanderbilt University Hospital where he became was chief resident of medicine. In 1942, he married Ann Howe. With the outbreak of the Second World War, he joined the Johns Hopkins Medical Unit serving in the Southwest Pacific Theatre and rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He returned to Vanderbilt as a member of the faculty, and he practiced and taught internal medicine. He was tapped to be dean of medical students in 1967, and in 1975 he was appointed associate dean for Medical Center Development Programs, a position which he relinquished in 1975. His social concerns led him to help develop a health program in rural areas in Appalachia.He was also instrumental in helping form the partnership of Vanderbilt Medical School with Meharry Medical College, which describes itself as “the largest private, comprehensive historically black institution for educating health professionals and scientists in the United States.” Vanderbilt University honored Dr. Billings in 1978 by holding “Josh Billings Day”, a celebration of his career, and in 1999 the University established the F. Tremaine Billings Professorship of Medicine.

My relationship with Josh Billings began in the fraught moments of the Rhodes Scholarship interview. He was Secretary of the Tennessee Committee, and I went to Nashville and to the Vanderbilt campus. In the anxiety induced amnesia of the selection process, I don’t remember the name of the hall where the interviews took place. I do remember that the room seemed at least 200 feet long, with the committee sitting behind a table as far away from the door as they could, and the hapless candidate had to walk across a vast expanse of hardwood floor. (Of course, it is just as possible that the committee met in a cosy carpeted room.) Several years later when I was in Memphis I served with Josh on the Tennessee committee. He did us the honor of becoming our friend, and my wife and I rejoiced in the company of Ann and Josh Billings.

Josh Billings wrote an account of his voluntary activities in Nashville after he retired. He had become involved in a literacy project, and his article in TAO’s winter issue of 1999 described his effort to teach a functionally illiterate man called “Tommy”. Tommy’s plight was made more poignant because he could not help his son. Josh worked with him, struggling not just with reading, but geography, history, and just plain knowledge. The matter of the nickel coin came up. Josh wrote, “A nickel is loaded with reading material: United States of America, In God We Trust, Liberty, Five Cents, the year minted, e pluribus unum (a dip into Latin, which he had never heard of), Monticello (printed under the picture of Jefferson’s home). And, of course, the man on the nickel is [Thomas] Jefferson. . . . Tommy, excited said: ‘Oh I must show this to TJ (Tommy Junior)’.” This vignette captures the essence of Josh Billings: his cleverness, his patience, his shrewd insight into people, his deft touch at comforting them, and his commitment to others.

Preceded in death by his wife, Ann, he is survived by two sons, a daughter, six grandchildren, and one great grandchild.

 JOHN DAVID ALEXANDER
( Tennessee and Christ Church ’54)