“Dad and Helen were role models for me coming up, and it’s really great to know that she’s lived a wonderful life and touched so many lives in St. Louis,” said Dr. Alison Nash, who represents the third generation of the Nash medical legacy.
In the 1940s – at a time when blacks and women faced an uphill battle in the field of medicine – Dr. Helen Nash paved a way for her race and gender as one of the top pediatricians in the area.
St. Louis received the gift of Dr. Nash’s dedication and commitment to using medicine to aid children thanks to Homer G. Phillips Hospital, the famed training ground for black doctors.
She set up shop and never left. Before her retirement in the early 1990s, she had dedicated nearly 50 years to meeting the medical needs of young people in the St. Louis area.
The Atlanta native blazed a trail for her baby brother Dr. Homer Nash, who also followed their father’s footsteps as a doctor.
“There’s not a day that goes by when I’m at work seeing patients that somebody doesn’t tell me, ‘Dr. Helen Nash was my doctor’ or ‘I was with Dr. Helen and now I’m bringing my grandchildren to you,'” Dr. Allison Nash said. “It’s such a connection in the St. Louis community, particularly that north side of the community.”
On Saturday afternoon at Cuisine d’Art restaurant in Creve Coeur, a small fraction of the lives she touched over the years joined for a celebration. Former colleagues, patients, family and friends came to honor her life as she turned 90.
“We’re very proud,” Dr. Helen Nash’s youngest sister Dorothy Nash Shack said. “She has always worked hard, and everybody knows her everywhere because she’s worked so much in this community.”
An affectionate showcase
It was a highly interactive celebration.
“Where did Helen go to college?” Tracy Nash Huntley asked.
“Spelman,” the crowd yelled out in unison.
“Where did Helen attend medical school?” she asked.
“Meharry,” they fired back .
They continued to shout out names and breeds of Dr. Helen Nash’s pets, types of automobiles and her favorite collections in an affectionate showcase of their beloved knowledge of her as a person and professional.
Most touching was the time allotted for family and friends – some had traveled from as far as California – to share stories and reflections.
“As her patient, she was my advocate. As my godmother, she opened doors and gave me insight into her dazzling world of beauty, grace and knowledge that was available to anyone with curiosity, diligence and the ability to see,” godson Barry Smith said.
“Helen has always been an elegant being. Disciplined in her choices, unflinching when faced with the challenges of life and yet certain in her sense of the great adventure.”
A wide range of individuals from all age groups and walks of life were eager to share their bond with the beloved doctor.
“Helen and I got to know each other because she asked who it would be safe to refer black people to and they told her I was safe,” said psychologist Dr. Elizabeth Nettles. “And so there were times when my practice has been 50 percent black. And we’ve been really good friends for many years.”
Dr. Nettles also spoke on behalf of their mutual close friend Ethel, who was out of town.
“Ethel brought Kenneth, her youngest son, to see Helen because she had stomach aches and she taken him to see other doctors – but Helen had always been half psychiatrist and half pediatrician,” Nettles said.
“She thought to ask what brought on the stomach aches, and she learned that his stomach had been hurting ever since Charles died. Charles was Ethel’s middle son. He came home his freshman year of college was diagnosed with leukemia and died two weeks after being diagnosed. Helen told Ethel to go home, take out all of the pictures of Charles, go to the cemetery and grieve him properly. And that’s what cured the stomach ache.”
Her influence stretched to an employee of the Kinko’s where her 90th birthday picture collage and bookmarks were printed.
“She kept kind of hovering and worked up the nerve to say, ‘Who is that in this picture,’ Dr. Helen Nash’s great-niece Candice said. “I said, ‘That’s my Aunt Helen.’ She said, ‘No, the last name.’ I said, ‘Helen Nash.'”
The Kinko’s employees said, “Dr. Nash! Tell her Jerry Macklin, Mary Macklin’s daughter, said hello!”
Another niece felt the reach of her aunt’s influence while in an emergency room in Seattle.
“Several people in the E.R. who had done rotations with you and worked with you at Children’s Hospital, they were like, ‘Oh, this is Helen’s niece, we have to make sure she’s well taken care of,” Terrell Nash Mann said.
“These weren’t patients; they were young physicians that you had touched. All of them were just singing your praises.”
Dr. Helen Nash’s sister knows that experience.
“I can walk around certain places and in the hospitals, and people will think that I’m Helen and they will know that we’re related,” Shack said. “She’s thrown a wide web, and people remember her. How could they forget?”
