Photo: The late Willie B. Newman, MD, JD graduate of Florida A&M University School of Law, Tulane Medical School and Florida State University. Dr. Newman was the most respected, most trusted, most influential and sought-after Obstetrics & Gynecology Physician in Seminole County, Florida.
The following article about Willie Newman, MD, JD, was written for the July, 2007 issue of Central Florida Doctor magazine by Heather Kinghorn.
Born of humble beginnings, Willie Newman, M.D., J.D., knows the rags-to-riches story. He’s lived it – and he’s never forgotten it. It shapes his perceptions, his view of the world, and the way he practices medicine and lives life. From the time he was an adolescent, Dr. Newman faced adversity head-on, dispelled racial stereotypes, and overcame exceedingly great odds and obstacles to become one of the most respected, most trusted, most influential, and most sought-after OB/GYNs in Seminole County.
When others laughed at his aspirations, he chose to listen to the few who encouraged him. When racial myths threatened to prevent him from living his dream, he worked even harder to dispel them. From the time he was a boy, he knew where he was headed –and each day solidified his desire, furthered his drive.
Practicing obstetrics and gynecology in Seminole County (Sanford, Florida) since the early 1980s, Dr. Newman has played key roles in shaping the community’s obstetric services, establishing pivotal programs in high schools, clinics, and jails, and he’s become a hero and a friend to thousands of women and their families. He’s delivered more than 10,000 babies, watching as they took their first breath, smiling as they entered the world.
But on March 21, 2007, Dr. Newman received the news that would cause him to leave the office, to take a hiatus from doing what he loved best. “That day,” he says, “is a day of infamy.” That day, he was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma – an extremely rare form of cancer affecting the bilary ducts inside the liver; it’s estimated that less than 2,500 cases of cholangiocarcinoma occur in the United States each year. The prognosis for these patients tends to be poor – many aren’t candidates for surgery, forcing them to face the reality that they may have less than six months left to live. But those who are candidates for surgery may get a second chance. Dr. Newman’s still waiting to find out which side of the fence he lands in – but he’s not too worried about it.
“Right now, I feel pretty darn good,” he says. “I say the serenity prayer – God grant me” the patience to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
In the beginning
Segregation was the law of the land. Born and raised in Sanford, Dr. Newman quickly learned which drinking fountains he could use, which hospital ward was for the “colored” patients, which restrooms he was allowed to use. As an African American, he couldn’t enter stores without an invitation from the owner, and he couldn’t eat in restaurants – in those days, African Americans only ordered take-out from a section in back. For Dr. Newman, though, the latter two restrictions didn’t really matter; born to poor, migrant farm workers, his big treat always came on Friday – the day his mother would bring him a box of Animal Crackers. It made all the hard work that week worth it.
Since the tender age of 7, Dr. Newman’s worked hard – delivering papers, working as a launderer, holding a position at a pool hall in a “less-than-stellar part of town,” picking oranges, and taking advantage of other odd jobs he could find.
“You do what you have to do,” he explains. “In poverty, there are lots of opportunities in agriculture. We called it ‘piecework.’ What you pick, you get paid for – in big families, that’s how you fed yourself. I was exposed to germicide, pesticide, you name it.”
Those were tough times, he recalls. He had a 10-digit family number with his welfare card, and his family relied on Medicaid and food stamps – for a while, he figured it was the norm. It made success seem impractical.
But throughout the years, in spite of the daily labor and struggles, Dr. Newman still managed to fit in education – his mother never let him forget: “education is the key.” It’s still his mantra. His mother had an eighth-grade education; his father had no formal schooling.
“Education is the backbone,” Dr. Newman says. “Reading and writing are commodities we take for granted. It made my choices easier – do you want this life or something else?” He wanted something else.
Inspirations
As a child, Dr. Newman knew the doctor’s office well. Suffering from asthma until age 12, Dr. Newman grew quite close to his family doctor, Edward Epstein, M.D., through multiple visits to his office and the emergency room. Over the years, Dr. Epstein served as a role model, a mentor, and a friend – eventually, his words and inspirations would bring Dr. Newman back home to Seminole County to serve the community that needed him so much.
Yet even during adolescence, Dr. Newman heard his calling, as key inspirations pointed him toward a career in medicine, specifically in obstetrics. He still recalls a teacher in elementary school who died during childbirth. Perhaps if she had better care, he thought, she may not have died.
And because of the poverty he knew too well, Dr. Newman knew he wanted a better life.
“Being a doctor was better than being an alcoholic or a day laborer – those were the things I was exposed to in my neighborhood,” he says. “I got to see very poor, non-influential people, and I got to see those of modest means, those who contributed to society. I chose all the things to get into because of the things I didn’t want to get into.”
He wanted to run from the incurables – things like cancer, which he considers somewhat ironic after his recent diagnosis. Combining obstetrics and gynecology, however, would result in mostly happy, smiling patients, trusting relationships, and positive outcomes, he believed.
And then his choice was solidified – twice, actually, in the same year.
It was during his undergraduate years at Florida State University. He remembers the vivid details of the defining moment in 1975 – the day he performed his first delivery. It was a surprise, really. He was doing an externship with a family physician and, one day, they headed to the hospital; Dr. Newman had no idea why. Once they arrived, they entered the delivery room.
“I’d never seen a delivery done before, never imagined what one would be like,” he remembers. He followed the physician’s lead, scrubbed up, went through some doors, and saw a lady positioned in stirrups, clearly in labor. “Words can’t describe my fear and terror at that moment!” he says.
So, with his mask half-off and hat tilted, Dr. Newman carefully followed the physician’s instructions, grasping the newborn, trying desperately not to drop it.
“I remember that moment – the smile extended beyond my mask. I remember the feeling –I was covered in Goosebumps. It was an amazing moment. I had to do this,” Dr. Newman recalls.
That same year, another experience cemented Dr. Newman’s aspirations. He went with a friend, who was attending Tulane Medical School, to the home of an obstetrician in New Orleans. The physician was hospitable, outgoing, and humorous – he seemed so happy with his life, his family, his career. He served as a mentor for the day, greatly impacting Dr. Newman’s decision to pursue obstetrics. But there was another thing that caught his eye, too.
“I saw his house,” Dr. Newman explains. “My friend and I both looked at each other –‘we need to have this.’ It was on the lake, one of the biggest houses I’d ever seen.” It was a different world than the one he grew up in.
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The late Dr. Newman was a lifelong family friend. His life and his accomplishments are a true testimony that African-Americans can overcome ALL adversity.
He never lost his desire to learn and to help others. Dr. Newman was one of the first Seminole County doctors to push for improving infant-mortality rates. He also worked with the Seminole County Health Department and provided prenatal care for indigent women.
His career became his life. December 1984 especially stands out in his mind – he delivered nearly 70 babies that month. He specifically remembers going to the hospital one Saturday night – and leaving the next Sunday, eight days later.
Newman served as a consultant and also gave free advice to friends. His constant educational pursuits served as a motivator for his children. Dr. Newman’s practiced both medicine and law, focusing his legal work primarily on contract, healthcare, and family law. “In the best of times and in the worst of times, knowledge is key,” he says.
His daughter, Courtney Newman, graduated from Boston University and is a psychiatric rehab counselor in Atlanta; his oldest son, William "Chris" Newman, is set to graduate from Harvard in June and has been accepted to the University of Florida School of Medicine; and his youngest son, Nicholas, is a ninth-grader in the pre-IB program at Seminole High.
"He started law school just to pass the time while waiting to deliver babies," said his wife, Dr. Joetta Bishop Newman. "Learning was something that he just really enjoyed doing."
"His children and his family meant everything to him. It was the reason for everything he did," Dr. Joetta Newman said. "Even the things he did for the community was ultimately his way to teach his kids that they have a responsibility to give back to the community and to be better people. That was his top priority."
Dr. Willie B. Newman passed away on January 13, 2008, at age 53.
He is survived by his children and lovely wife, Dr. Joetta Bishop Newman; and his sister, Nancy Newman of Lake Mary, Florida.
Well Done, Thy Good and Faithful Servant!
Footnote: Dr. George Stark, who served as an early mentor to Dr. Newman was a pioneering African-American physician and graduate of Howard University Medical School.
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Photo: University of Arkansas Pine Bluff "Musical Marching Machine of the Mid-South Band."
