MAA - The Bulletin - Spring 2009

Anatomy with Papa A; Lessons from Larry Anderson
By Rita M. Rooney

s a teenager in a suburb of Detroit, Larry Anderson, lived midway on the 26-mile stretch of road that was Michigan’s famous street-racing thoroughfare. In summer, with his bedroom windows open, he would listen at 2 a.m. to the speeding cars on Woodward Avenue, and yearn for the day he could join them. Anderson had his future pretty much planned in those days—college at the insistence of his father, then taking over the family business. It would be a good life, if a placid one. As for excitement, there were cars, to say nothing of racing. To a boy from Michigan, that was enough.

There have always been the cars, and for a time racing as well. Throughout his life, Anderson has maintained a passion for classic autos, and has owned several. When he was in college, he bought a 1965 AC Cobra. An English sports car, rebuilt in America with an oversized motor, only about 1100 of the model were manufactured. He drove the car while in college, refinanced it three times, and reports he still has it “to remind me of my identity and youthful passion.”

However, the pathway taken by the man who today is Larry Anderson, PhD, professor of anatomy and neurobiology, might have surprised those who knew him then. In fact, he often is surprised himself. He took only one course in anatomy and yet has taught it for 30 years. When asked if he ever dreamed that might happen, he replies, “Teach it? I never thought I’d use it.”

Anderson, who currently is course director of structure and development, has succeeded in life with the help of a two-fold formula that begins with an essential trust in opportunity. Whenever it knocks, he opens the door. His second theory is one he has been vigorously instilling in his students at Maryland since the day he first stood before a class. “Have fun. Enjoy what you do.”

He talks of the students who enter medical school, fresh from undergraduate work or the pursuit of another career, and the competition that comes with being the brightest, and getting the best grades. “I tell them to relax,” he says. “I know they are smart and motivated or they wouldn’t be here. It’s time now to forget about competition and concentrate on learning. I try to impress them that not getting a passing grade on every examination is not the end of their world—or their career. They have to enjoy learning while they are here because they probably will be continuing to learn for the next 50 years.”

He also tells his students that, if they are in a bad relationship, they need to get out of it right away. “If you don’t have the courage to do it yourself, call me and I’ll do it for you,” he adds. That may be part of the reason students call him Papa A. He cares, and they know it.

Possibly the earliest turning point in Anderson’s own life came as a sophomore in college. His father died suddenly and so the son left school for a while to take up his expected post in the family business. It isn’t what he says now of that time as much as the nuances behind his words that give one the sense that the loss of his father did as much as anything to shape his future. It drove home the uncertainties of life and the importance of filling it with as much meaning as possible. He began to explore new ideas and question the old ones. In time, he returned to college. It was about then that he was introduced to biology, and saw an opening in that first doorway to opportunity.

“I thought biology was cool,” Anderson says. “When my professor asked if I wanted to work in his lab that summer, I thought ‘why not.’ He was working with frog eggs. I suppose neither he nor I knew where that would lead me.”

After college, Anderson went on to earn a master’s degree in biology, where he graduated from frog eggs to toad eggs, and then enrolled in the MD/PhD program at Wayne State University. By the start of his third year, he knew the practice of medicine was not what he wanted, and so he dropped out of med school to focus on his PhD in physiology and biochemistry, which he earned in 1976. By that time, he was absorbed in the research he was doing on the mammary gland. “I was bitten by the research bug,” he says, “and there was no turning back from it. It became my passion.”

In 1976, Anderson accepted an NIH postdoctoral fellowship in reproductive endocrinology at Maryland’s department of physiology. By that time, he was married and had a son, and would soon have a daughter. He assured his wife, Shirley, who had never before been outside Michigan, that it would only be for a few years.

Looking back on those early days, Anderson recalls, “I had the good fortune to work with the chair of physiology, Cornelia Channing, PhD. She was a workhorse and an unbelievably talented woman. Unfortunately, she died early in her career, but by that time she had become famous by being able to take cells out of ovaries and grow them in culture. We worked well together. Being in her lab and being part of her research really jump-started my future.”

The Channing laboratory discovered that a hormone, inhibin, thought to be present in the male only, actually is present in the female as well. Inhibin is secreted by granulosa cells in the ovaries to regulate the secretion of the follicle stimulating hormone from the pituitary gland. This discovery led to investigation of other hormones possibly present in the ovaries, particularly local growth factors and other new hormones, including activin, that might have an impact on kidney and cancer research. “It seemed incredible to me that I could be part of something like that,” Anderson says. “I kept telling myself I had actually done something. It’s hard to explain that kind of excitement.”

The Move to Anatomy
By this time, the young scientist was soon to complete his fellowship and research in the Channing laboratory. He started looking for a job. When it was suggested that he apply for an opening in Maryland’s anatomy department, his initial reaction was, “Me? Anatomy? You’ve got to be kidding.” But there it was, that niggling possibility of opportunity hinting that maybe this could lead to something. In the end, he found himself meeting the department chair who proposed he give a seminar. So with one course in the subject under his belt, he did so and got the job. As he says in retrospect, “My bluff had been called.” Meanwhile, he kept telling Shirley it would be only a few more years; then they would return to Michigan.

Anderson is a pragmatist. He had already written and received his first NIH grant on inhibin, and another on steroids. So he reckoned that the reason he got the anatomy job was that, having already garnered a few grants, he was possibly viewed as a potential academic “cash cow.” Being practical, however, he also knew he wouldn’t be left to pursue only his research. His job was contingent on teaching. When his course director learned his extent of classroom anatomy was limited to a few months as a student, he reminded him that the school teaches dissection, and strongly suggested that he start practicing on a cadaver to prepare for what lay ahead.

“I didn’t have very much time,” he remembers. “ I had my research, and I had a three-year-old son, and a three-month-old daughter.” Then too, there were his cars. As a teenager, he got his boyhood dream when he raced his 1964 Pontiac GTO down Woodward Avenue with its three carburetors and four speeds. Not only does he still own the car, he has added to his collection with a 2005 GTO. He has often raced the Cobra in Michigan and at Summit Point in Virginia, and enjoys working on the cars and what he calls “the joy of getting my hands dirty.”

However, the new challenge of learning dissection—Anderson calls it opportunity—drew his attention, and he began spending his afternoons practicing on a cadaver.

“I would follow other doctors around to learn from them,” he says, “I was the young upstart, but they were very helpful. I soon realized that I found the whole experience fascinating. I became motivated and wanted to learn more. I must admit, though, it took five years before I became really confident about teaching the course.”

His students remember it differently. George Boyer, ’83, now chair of the department of medicine, pulmonary and critical care at Baltimore’s Mercy Medical Center, was a student in Anderson’s class during the first year the then assistant professor taught gross anatomy. He recalls that he and his classmates didn’t know what to expect. They were filled with the gravity of their roles as future doctors, and that first week, especially working with cadavers in the anatomy lab, was daunting.

“I remember attending what probably was Larry’s first lecture,” Boyer says. “He must have been on the lower rungs of the faculty hierarchy, and one might think as nervous as we were. But he was neither intimidated nor intimidating. He had our interest from the minute he began to speak about the heart, pretending that he was a red corpuscle, making his journey through the heart. He had the attention of everyone in the room, and I think he held it throughout the course.”

Anatomy was the cornerstone of the medical school when it opened in 1807. That hasn’t changed. Unlike many schools, dissection is still taught at Maryland, and it is no less important today than it was in 1807.

“Before they begin their first dissection, I tell students this is their first patient,” Anderson says. He adds that he expects them to extend the same respect to the cadaver on the dissection table as they will to those patients who later fill their offices.

“This person before you is the teacher,” he tells the class. “I can help you understand, but he or she will teach you anatomy.”
His own take on dissection is that there is much more to be learned than academic discovery. He believes it teaches a reverence for humanity and an opportunity for students to learn in real time, instead of from a book. It is a lesson, he says, that aims to change the mind set of students from making the A-list to learning—for themselves and their future patients.

Bruce Jarrell, MD, vice dean for research and academic affairs, reports, “Larry Anderson is the consummate researcher and teacher. He is totally supportive of his students, and committed to them in every way. He’s a bit of a ‘mother hen.’ That’s part of his caring as much as he does.”

Anderson makes it clear that gross anatomy isn’t a survey course, but one in which students are given the essentials they need in order to build their medical careers. In the early days, anatomy, histology and embryology were taught as separate courses. Today, they are integrated within one course. Radiology has become an integral part in the education of gross anatomy, since MRI, CT, ultrasound, and radiographs comprise how students will be using anatomy in their medical practices. Modern imaging can be used to visualize and dissect the heart, and to understand its functioning. Today’s software combines all the cross sections of the body and reconstructs them into what the body looks like three-dimensionally. It can rotate an image of the heart, for instance, and bring it into the full body with lungs and diaphragm. What anatomy students see today is what they will see in practice, a process that replaces what was once called exploratory surgery. So while dissection remains the source of understanding the human body, today’s technology broadens the lesson into the format physicians encounter in practice.

Continuing Passion for Research
Through the years, Anderson continued doing his research, building his lab, and working with graduate students and post docs as he sought funding for a variety of projects. At one point, while studying the formation of steroids by granulosa cells of the ovarian follicle, he discovered a new steroid that appeared to be a cross between estrogen and androgen. It turned out to be an anabolic steroid, which was recently re-discovered by a British team examining race horses suspected of having been drugged.

Another time, one he references as “opportunity knocking,” his experience in working with eggs in various animal species, served as the impetus for him to start up Maryland’s in vitro fertilization program with the department of obstetrics & gynecology. That experience, which helped him in assessing human sperm and understanding the physiology of the male reproductive system, led to another research project in collaboration with Dennis Hoover, PhD, and Melissa McDiarmid, ’79. The study investigated the long-term effects of depleted uranium on injured Gulf War and Iraq War veterans. Anderson and Hoover are assessing the reproductive health of these men.

Anderson admits that, in his own career, he has immersed himself in research. It was his first love, the passion he aligns with cars. But he has a tendency to constantly re-invent himself. He likes diversity, and once he becomes engaged in something, he becomes totally absorbed, sometimes surprising himself. It has been that way with teaching, something he now counts as still another passion.

“I’m honored to be in this position,” he says. “I’ve had some amazing people come before me, and it has been a privilege to be part of their medical education. I feel I want to do more than that though. I want to influence their outlook, not only about medicine, but about life.”

It was 32 years ago that Larry Anderson first came to the University of Maryland as a research fellow, promising his wife it would be a short-term affiliation, followed by their return to Michigan. Fortunately, he and Shirley have long been happily settled along the Chesapeake Bay. As for the impact of his years at Maryland, it is evidenced by overwhelming praise from students whose ratings of his teaching in yearly evaluations range from “amazing professor,” to “clear and understandable presentations,” to the most oft cited appraisal, “he really cares.”

Anderson’s popularity is perhaps best expressed by former student, Frederick W. Schaerf, ’83 (MD/PhD), a neuro-psychiatrist practicing in Fort Myers, Florida. “He probably influenced my life more than anyone else,” Schaerf says. “He taught me to enjoy life, and how to apply that to rigorous scientific study.