Dr. James "Butch"
Rosser
Minimally Invasive Surgeon
CLAIM TO FAME: "Putting a stethoscope to someone's chest
just gives you voodoo information," says Dr. James Rosser - Butch
to his friends and patients. "We've basically declared war
on the stethoscope." Having been a pioneer in laparoscopic
surgery in Ohio and made Yale a superpower in the field, Rosser has
just arrived at Beth Israel Medical Center to establish the Advanced
Medical Technology Institute. A 10,000-square-foot complex on
East 16th Street - which Rosser points out will be shaped like the Starship
Enterprise - AMTI will provide training in high-tech surgery, telemedicine
(house calls via laptop), and any further research-and-development Rosser
dreams up.
THE
MEDIUM IS THE MESSAGE: It was Dr. Anthony Antonacci, the chairman
of Beth Israel's department of surgery and a onetime Rosser trainee
("I'm the chocolate Yoda, and he's one of my Obi-Wan Kenobis,"
Rosser says), who hired him for AMTI. "He has reinvented
the way we educate in surgery," says Antonacci. "We're
changing our entire program, and he's going to be a true foundation
piece." A week into Rosser's new position, his equipment
is still in boxes, his research center still a blueprint. But
the outsize former offensive lineman (120 pounds lighter after a laparoscopic
gastric bypass last year) talks excitedly over a video of him assisting
live laparoscopic abdominal surgery in Ecuador via laptop. "The
technology," he pronounces, "will allow Butch Rosser to be
in more than one place at one time." With a raft of training
CDs and not one but three memoirs planned, he's practically ubiquitous
already.
HUMBLE BEGINNINGS:
"It was earth-shattering," says Rosser of the first stirrings
of his technophilia. "It was The Jetsons, Elroy had
this thing in his room with a TV screen that helped him with his lessons.
That was a PC!" He was born in rural Mississippi, in 1954.
"I didn't have any role models that looked like me. I couldn't
even drink from the same water fountain as you." Rosser finished
high school at 16 and played football at the University of Florida before
giving up a potentially glorious athletic career to graduate from the
University of Mississippi. "I didn't grow up shackled with
hatred of white people," he says. "I thought if you
gave me an honest chance, maybe you'd like me."
SPREADING THE WORD:
"He's taking laparoscopy to the common man, the day-to-day surgeon
who has a busy practice," says Dr. Richard Satava, a professor
of surgery at Yale who's known Rosser for almost a decade. "I
bring a lot of old-time country doctors to the twenty-first century,"
Rosser says. "He was very compassionate," agrees patient
Marjorie Rife, 79. "He put his arms around me and told my
daughter he was going to treat me like his own mother." Another
doctor had told her he'd have to remove her colon; Rosser removed a
polyp laparoscopically and had her home in a week.