Robert Tell
Title
Robert Tell
Description
Robert Tell was a senior executive at Sinai-Grace Hospital in Detroit in July of 1967. He was called into work where he could see the fires from the roof of the hospital. He worked throughout the week.
Publisher
Original Account published by the Detroit Jewish News, 2002, Special Edition regarding the 1967 Riot.
Comment Summary: Detroit Historical Society
Comment Summary: Detroit Historical Society
Date
08/23/2016
Rights
Detroit Jewish News
Detroit Historical Society
Detroit Historical Society
Format
Text
Language
en-US
Type
Written Story
Text
Originally published by the Detroit Jewish News, 2002, Special Edition regarding the 1967 Riot:
Detroit, 1967
Seen from the hospital rooftop, the cityscape blazed orange with hot flames. From left to right and up and down the whole horizon flickers, and licked the gray and clouded ceiling of the sky, its heat too distant to relieve the chill felt by the stunned observer who shivered with both fear and fascination.
From this high spot, as though observed by some great bird, nested aloft and safe in forest trees, squinting at the conflagration down below, hazy lifeforms could be dimly seen scattered like buckshot.
Bullets whistled past (or into) treasure hunter heads and bodies, captured by the frenzy of the moment. Danger and the novelty of curfew could not dissuade then from their greedy quests.
Noisily overhead, the throaty throb of army helicopter blades, like monster ceiling fans, beat the air into the pulsing wind. Green tanks lumbered clumsily upon the city streets, their phallic cannons panned the avenues, and dared the foolish to a challenge.
The thwak of sniper slugs shattering shatterproof window glass in buses under siege brought workers to their knees where they crouched and prayed for safety.
Yet it came. Risking everything while the city burned. Amidst the looting and the maiming, the fighting and the killing, the caregivers came, refusing to abandon their sick charges trapped within the sphere of chaos.
With the daylight, when the fever and the fire both had cooled, when the whirleybirds were hangared and the tanks again garaged, some looked around with shame at what they’d wrought upon their own; while others, without bluster or apology, hugged their grateful patients and went home.
Summary of Robert Tell’s Comments About 1967
In 1967, I was a 30 year old senior executive at Sinai, having moved here from New York in 1964 to take the position.
I was “on-call” that weekend, Dr. Julien Priver (the CEO) and Sydney Peimer (the COO) were home and off duty and could not come in once the violence started. So, I was in total charge of the hospital. Little did they or I know what was coming.
The nursing supervisor called me at home and said I had better come in, something was going on. “What?” I asked. “Just come in quickly,” she said, “and meet me on the roof of the hospital.”
So I did. We gazed toward downtown and the sky was lit up with flames. It looked like the result of a wartime bombing campaign, but we had no idea what was happening. We found out very soon from the police, and the hospital was in chaos.
Sinai had a large African American employee staff from the inner city. Suddenly they couldn’t go home. Worse, replacement staff for the shift change couldn’t come in. People were tired and frightened. Tempers were growing short. And who would take care of our patients (who also could not go home if they were ready for discharge)? Many doctors could not come in either.
And there I was, suddenly responsible for the fate of the entire hospital and its staff and patients. But I needn’t have feared. I wasn’t alone. The hospital staff pulled together as a team like never before to support me. Nothing was too much to ask to provide needed care for our sick charges. Buses were rented to ferry staff back and forth through the danger zones, dodging sniper bullets all the way.
Employees, many of whom were African American, risked like and limb to come in, relieve exhausted colleagues, and make sure the patients were properly cared for. Noisy helicopters flew overhead. Military weaponry and paraphernalia surrounded the hospital and permeated the City. The sounds of battle could be heard constantly as our staff tried to maintain a calm demeanor for the patients.
It wasn’t easy. It was like a siege and nerves were becoming very rattled. Because of the curfew, many of us did not go home for days, sleeping wherever an unoccupied bed or sofa could be found. And, thanks to the loyalty and compassion of our employees…and regardless of what was going on in the City…the hospital weathered the storm and neither the patients nor staff were among the casualties of the riot.
It was a very proud moment for Sinai.
Detroit, 1967
Seen from the hospital rooftop, the cityscape blazed orange with hot flames. From left to right and up and down the whole horizon flickers, and licked the gray and clouded ceiling of the sky, its heat too distant to relieve the chill felt by the stunned observer who shivered with both fear and fascination.
From this high spot, as though observed by some great bird, nested aloft and safe in forest trees, squinting at the conflagration down below, hazy lifeforms could be dimly seen scattered like buckshot.
Bullets whistled past (or into) treasure hunter heads and bodies, captured by the frenzy of the moment. Danger and the novelty of curfew could not dissuade then from their greedy quests.
Noisily overhead, the throaty throb of army helicopter blades, like monster ceiling fans, beat the air into the pulsing wind. Green tanks lumbered clumsily upon the city streets, their phallic cannons panned the avenues, and dared the foolish to a challenge.
The thwak of sniper slugs shattering shatterproof window glass in buses under siege brought workers to their knees where they crouched and prayed for safety.
Yet it came. Risking everything while the city burned. Amidst the looting and the maiming, the fighting and the killing, the caregivers came, refusing to abandon their sick charges trapped within the sphere of chaos.
With the daylight, when the fever and the fire both had cooled, when the whirleybirds were hangared and the tanks again garaged, some looked around with shame at what they’d wrought upon their own; while others, without bluster or apology, hugged their grateful patients and went home.
Summary of Robert Tell’s Comments About 1967
In 1967, I was a 30 year old senior executive at Sinai, having moved here from New York in 1964 to take the position.
I was “on-call” that weekend, Dr. Julien Priver (the CEO) and Sydney Peimer (the COO) were home and off duty and could not come in once the violence started. So, I was in total charge of the hospital. Little did they or I know what was coming.
The nursing supervisor called me at home and said I had better come in, something was going on. “What?” I asked. “Just come in quickly,” she said, “and meet me on the roof of the hospital.”
So I did. We gazed toward downtown and the sky was lit up with flames. It looked like the result of a wartime bombing campaign, but we had no idea what was happening. We found out very soon from the police, and the hospital was in chaos.
Sinai had a large African American employee staff from the inner city. Suddenly they couldn’t go home. Worse, replacement staff for the shift change couldn’t come in. People were tired and frightened. Tempers were growing short. And who would take care of our patients (who also could not go home if they were ready for discharge)? Many doctors could not come in either.
And there I was, suddenly responsible for the fate of the entire hospital and its staff and patients. But I needn’t have feared. I wasn’t alone. The hospital staff pulled together as a team like never before to support me. Nothing was too much to ask to provide needed care for our sick charges. Buses were rented to ferry staff back and forth through the danger zones, dodging sniper bullets all the way.
Employees, many of whom were African American, risked like and limb to come in, relieve exhausted colleagues, and make sure the patients were properly cared for. Noisy helicopters flew overhead. Military weaponry and paraphernalia surrounded the hospital and permeated the City. The sounds of battle could be heard constantly as our staff tried to maintain a calm demeanor for the patients.
It wasn’t easy. It was like a siege and nerves were becoming very rattled. Because of the curfew, many of us did not go home for days, sleeping wherever an unoccupied bed or sofa could be found. And, thanks to the loyalty and compassion of our employees…and regardless of what was going on in the City…the hospital weathered the storm and neither the patients nor staff were among the casualties of the riot.
It was a very proud moment for Sinai.
Original Format
Letter
Submitter's Name
Robert Tell
Submission Date
08/23/2016
Collection
Citation
“Robert Tell,” Detroit Historical Society Oral History Archive, accessed November 3, 2024, http://oralhistory.detroithistorical.org/items/show/371.