its hands.
They take care of things.”
“Bart—”
“You might not like how they take care of it, but they take
care of it, end of story.”
“But—”
“No sitting around, ‘woe is us.’ They do something.” Bart voted Republican, while Rick, a proud liberal, voted for
Jimmy Carter in 1976.
“That’s not principled, Rick,” Bart cracked, “that’s plain stupid
voting for that dopey peanut farmer.”
In 1979, Bart left Mexico and returned to New York State to
complete his fifth year of meds. It was called the Fifth Pathway
system to becoming a doctor. It was for Americans who had completed medical school abroad. They had to spend a year working
in the States under supervision, something between a fourth-year
medical student and intern. If you did OK, you could take the
licensing exam, which Bart did, and passed, qualifying him for
a normal internship and residency. He applied to specialize in
obstetrics and gynecology. During his residency in 1979, he met
a nurse at Buffalo General Hospital named Lynne Breitbart. At the
time, he was doing what he could to get by, did physicals at the
hospital for five dollars an hour. She was 23 years old, ten years
Bart’s junior. They soon got married.
Bart Slepian had no burning desire to deliver babies or help
women. But he had solid technical skills, was good with his hands.
He wanted to get a mix of surgery and general medicine. With
the 1980s dawning, a conservative Republican and staunch ally
of Israel, Ronald Reagan, soundly beat the liberal peanut farmer
for the presidency. And Bart Slepian was, finally, a doctor. He was
34 years old and an OB, never mind the setbacks and the people
who said he couldn’t do it.
***
For the pro-life movement, the 1980s promised an era of revolutionary change. Ronald Reagan was a hero to conservatives who opposed abortion. “Regrettably,” Reagan said, “we live at a time when some persons do not value all human life. They want to pick and choose which individuals have value. We cannot diminish the value of one category of human life—the unborn—without diminishing the value of all human life.”
At the same time, the pro-life rescue movement interfering with abortion services at women’s health clinics grew. The rescues had several elements to them: picket signs and chanting, but also “sidewalk counseling.” That meant cornering a patient outside the clinic, lobbying the woman to reconsider her choice. Activists felt that one in five prospective patients would not make it to a subsequent appointment if deterred from attending her first appointment to abort. Other times, pro-lifers blockaded the entrance. Police got involved.
Others took the violence up several notches. On August 12, 1982, an Illinois doctor and his wife were kidnapped by three pro-life radicals and held at gunpoint for eight days. The trio, headed by Don Benny Anderson, claimed to be with a group called The Army of God. In 1984, clinics were being targeted more frequently for firebombs, arson, vandalism. There were 18 incidents in all, a couple of dozen death threats called in. Three men went to jail: Thomas Spinks, Kenneth Shields, and Michael Bray—the man who had met Jim Kopp in Switzerland. The bombings illustrated the double-edged sword of abortion procedures being confined to clinics instead of hospitals. Clinics offered women preferred service, argued pro-choice advocates, but also, in contrast to hospitals, they became visible symbols in the war—“abortuaries” and “mills” where the babies were slaughtered, in the minds of radical pro-lifers. That same year, 1984, Supreme Court justice Harry Blackmun, who had written the opinion on Roe v. Wade, received a death threat in the mail. It was signed The Army of God.
*** Daly City, California Spring 1984
He drove to south San Francisco, towards the airport. Daly City was in the industrial end of the city, an entirely different world from Jim Kopp’s old Marin County neighborhood, far from
They take care of things.”
“Bart—”
“You might not like how they take care of it, but they take
care of it, end of story.”
“But—”
“No sitting around, ‘woe is us.’ They do something.” Bart voted Republican, while Rick, a proud liberal, voted for
Jimmy Carter in 1976.
“That’s not principled, Rick,” Bart cracked, “that’s plain stupid
voting for that dopey peanut farmer.”
In 1979, Bart left Mexico and returned to New York State to
complete his fifth year of meds. It was called the Fifth Pathway
system to becoming a doctor. It was for Americans who had completed medical school abroad. They had to spend a year working
in the States under supervision, something between a fourth-year
medical student and intern. If you did OK, you could take the
licensing exam, which Bart did, and passed, qualifying him for
a normal internship and residency. He applied to specialize in
obstetrics and gynecology. During his residency in 1979, he met
a nurse at Buffalo General Hospital named Lynne Breitbart. At the
time, he was doing what he could to get by, did physicals at the
hospital for five dollars an hour. She was 23 years old, ten years
Bart’s junior. They soon got married.
Bart Slepian had no burning desire to deliver babies or help
women. But he had solid technical skills, was good with his hands.
He wanted to get a mix of surgery and general medicine. With
the 1980s dawning, a conservative Republican and staunch ally
of Israel, Ronald Reagan, soundly beat the liberal peanut farmer
for the presidency. And Bart Slepian was, finally, a doctor. He was
34 years old and an OB, never mind the setbacks and the people
who said he couldn’t do it.
***
For the pro-life movement, the 1980s promised an era of revolutionary change. Ronald Reagan was a hero to conservatives who opposed abortion. “Regrettably,” Reagan said, “we live at a time when some persons do not value all human life. They want to pick and choose which individuals have value. We cannot diminish the value of one category of human life—the unborn—without diminishing the value of all human life.”
At the same time, the pro-life rescue movement interfering with abortion services at women’s health clinics grew. The rescues had several elements to them: picket signs and chanting, but also “sidewalk counseling.” That meant cornering a patient outside the clinic, lobbying the woman to reconsider her choice. Activists felt that one in five prospective patients would not make it to a subsequent appointment if deterred from attending her first appointment to abort. Other times, pro-lifers blockaded the entrance. Police got involved.
Others took the violence up several notches. On August 12, 1982, an Illinois doctor and his wife were kidnapped by three pro-life radicals and held at gunpoint for eight days. The trio, headed by Don Benny Anderson, claimed to be with a group called The Army of God. In 1984, clinics were being targeted more frequently for firebombs, arson, vandalism. There were 18 incidents in all, a couple of dozen death threats called in. Three men went to jail: Thomas Spinks, Kenneth Shields, and Michael Bray—the man who had met Jim Kopp in Switzerland. The bombings illustrated the double-edged sword of abortion procedures being confined to clinics instead of hospitals. Clinics offered women preferred service, argued pro-choice advocates, but also, in contrast to hospitals, they became visible symbols in the war—“abortuaries” and “mills” where the babies were slaughtered, in the minds of radical pro-lifers. That same year, 1984, Supreme Court justice Harry Blackmun, who had written the opinion on Roe v. Wade, received a death threat in the mail. It was signed The Army of God.
*** Daly City, California Spring 1984
He drove to south San Francisco, towards the airport. Daly City was in the industrial end of the city, an entirely different world from Jim Kopp’s old Marin County neighborhood, far from
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