Angus James Neary
Uncle, surgeon, musician, wine connoisseur. Born on Sept. 3, 1925, in St. John's; died on Dec. 28, 2014, in St. John's, of complications from a cerebral stroke, aged 89.
Angus was the eldest of five sons and one daughter born to Edward and Muriel Neary, who operated a small grocery store in the west end of St. John's. He went to school at the all-boys St. Bonaventure's College, where he excelled academically.
When he graduated in 1941, he won the Junior Jubilee Scholarship for the highest marks in Newfoundland. Asked how he wanted to celebrate his achievement, he answered, "Could we have a school holiday?" And a half-day holiday it was.
His favourite subject was chemistry and, even as a child, he would tell people he wanted to be a physician. His education continued at what was then Memorial University College in St. John's; Dalhousie University in Halifax, where he graduated at the head of his medical school class in 1948 and won the school's gold medal; and the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, where he studied general surgery until 1955.
Back in St. John's, Angus joined the surgical staffs of the Grace General and Janeway Children's hospitals. He was known for spending long hours, day and night, monitoring the progress of his patients with focus and dedication.
He struck a singular image: a bespectacled, intense man in rumpled clothing, scientific journals and newspapers tucked under one arm and a portable Smith Corona typewriter under the other – his handwriting was so cryptic, he had to use the typewriter for his postoperative orders.
He was the compleat surgeon – meticulous in his work, kind and attentive to his patients, interested in their social circumstances, their habits and their families. Each patient was unique and unforgettable to Angus, and he maintained contact with them for years after their medical issues had passed, sending little notes pecked out on the Smith Corona.
Angus was a cultured man and, outside the hospital, the passions of his life were fine wine and classical music. These intertwined at after-hours wine tastings for a small group of friends, presided over in his cluttered office. Afterward, romanced by the wine, he had us sit back and listen, pointing out with vigour and animated gesticulation the nine high Cs in Donizetti's La fille du régiment or the trills in a Mozart flute concerto. At evening's end, we would listen to his signature piece, Mozart's Dove Sono.
Angus was intensely private, and at times reclusive in his retirement years. He appreciated the miracle of modern technology but eschewed it all, except for radio. He had no television, no computer, no e-mail and the thought of social media would send him into a tizzy.
But he was always current and well-informed, never without his 1960s-style transistor radio, the local paper and The Globe. His radio was set to CBC-AM (except for his inexplicable penchant for local open-line talk shows).
Angus never married, and left no children, but he adored his 10 nieces and nephews and was an integral part of their lives. To them he was affectionately known as Unk, never Uncle Angus, just Unk. At the wine tastings, he kept us up-to-date on their academic, musical and social lives. We, too, were privileged to be part of his family.
Wayne Andrews and Ted Rowe are friends of Angus.