Remembering Dr. Edward Cooper, first Black president of the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ

Edward Cooper was in such a hurry to become a doctor that he graduated high school at age 15 and college at 18. He was on his way to medical school when his plans were interrupted: He got drafted into World War II.
“We need doctors more than we need privates,” the head of the local draft board said. So off Cooper went to Meharry Medical College, a historically Black school in Nashville, Tennessee, followed by an internship at Philadelphia General Hospital.
The hospital's patients were pretty much split between Black and white. Yet while on a neurology rotation, Cooper noticed most stroke patients were Black and most of their strokes were caused by brain bleeds. And most of them had uncontrolled hypertension, which at the time was only a known risk factor for heart disease.
The questions this sparked shaped the rest of his career.
Cooper went on to become a distinguished physician and researcher, a longtime leader at the University of Pennsylvania and the first Black president of the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ. He died Friday, Dec. 12, the day after his 99th birthday.
“Dr. Cooper was a visionary leader whose commitment to advancing stroke care helped inspire transformative and lasting changes in medicine,” said Nancy Brown, CEO of the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ. “His kindness, warmth and compassion touched countless lives and left an enduring legacy of health and hope for all.”
Cooper’s career highlights included serving as co-founder and co-director of a stroke research center, serving on the board of trustees at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania and becoming Penn’s first Black professor to receive tenure.
His recruiting efforts helped increase the number of Black doctors, and he once memorably treated the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Training, illness and a promise
Edward Sawyer Cooper was born in Columbia, South Carolina, on Dec. 11, 1926.
His father was a dentist, as were two of his uncles. Yet his inspiration for a life in medicine came from a local doctor who visited the family home when Cooper was about 7 and his younger brother was battling scarlet fever.
Cooper observed the doctor's every move. On the way out, the man patted the youngster on the head and said, “You're going to be a good pediatrician.” In 1941, Cooper’s senior year of high school, the yearbook referred to him as “the future famous pediatrician.”
That same year, Pearl Harbor was bombed, plunging the U.S. into World War II. Cooper was only 15 at the time because he’d started school a year early, skipped fifth grade and South Carolina schools only went to 11th grade back then.
He zipped through Lincoln University, a historically Black college in Pennsylvania, by attending classes year-round. With his military commitment deferred, he earned his medical degree from Meharry, then received an internship at Philadelphia General Hospital, one of the nation’s oldest and largest hospitals. He was the third Black intern in PGH history and the only Black person in his 50-person cohort.
The discovery of the stroke discrepancies prompted Cooper to wonder, “Is this a cause-and-effect thing? Or is it just a coincidence?”
As he pondered that, Cooper caught the flu that turned into pneumonia. He was racked by fever so high that it triggered hallucinations. Praying for a turnaround, he vowed: “Good Lord, if you help me through this, I assure you I will do everything I can to help those poor patients with stroke.” Doctors then found the correct antibiotics to treat his illness. He came away from the ordeal with appreciation for the patient experience – and a promise to keep.

Distinguished work in Philadelphia
Cooper finished his internship and residency at PGH in 1954, then fulfilled his military obligation. He served in the Philippines, becoming the first Black chief of medical services at the U.S. Air Force Hospital.
He returned to Philadelphia and PGH, first for a cardiology fellowship, then as an attending physician and faculty member at the University of Pennsylvania Medical Services. The hospital also allowed him to become the first program director at Mercy-Douglass Hospital, Philadelphia's only Black hospital.
In the late 1960s, Penn received a $1 million federal grant to set up a stroke research center at PGH. Cooper, a co-founder, served as its co-director for 10 years until the hospital closed. He then moved to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, eventually becoming a member of its board of trustees.
In 1972, Penn made Cooper a tenured professor, an honor the school had never given to a Black doctor. Breaking that barrier was nice; nicer was one of the perks: free tuition for his kids.
Over four decades of practice, Cooper's body of work included countless scientific papers, trainees and patients. Yet the case he's asked about most involves a simple physical – because the patient was King.
In 1958, a woman stabbed King in the chest with a 7-inch letter opener. Doctors carefully removed the blade, and he healed amazingly well. A few years later, he wanted to have the scar smoothed out by a dermatologist at Mercy-Douglass. While there, King requested a physical. The dermatologist said, “I know exactly the guy you need to see.” Cooper, of course.

Cooper’s time with the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ
Around the time Cooper joined the Penn faculty, he began volunteering for the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ.
In the 1960s and '70s, he served on the local board of directors. In 1982, he joined the national board. That same year, he became chair of the Stroke Council.
The ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ's mission statement then was: “The reduction of premature death and disability from cardiovascular diseases.” Anytime Cooper heard it, he'd quickly chime in, “and stroke!” – always with a friendly smile.
In 1985, while Cooper was still on the national board, the organization amended its mission statement to add those two words.
In 1992, Cooper became the Heart Association’s first Black president. He also believed he was the first president to come up through the Stroke Council.
Cooper helped push through changes signed into law by President George H.W. Bush that created the food nutrition labels we're now accustomed to seeing. He also spent the year touting the subjects he was most passionate about: inclusion and stroke.
Cooper also made a difference as a volunteer with the National Medical Association, the largest organization representing Black doctors and patients.
In the late 1960s, the NMA president asked Cooper to create a pipeline from historically Black colleges and universities to medical schools. A decade later, the number of Black medical students had nearly doubled. Slow, steady growth has continued. Black doctors went from making up 2.2% of the field in 1977 to around 5.7% today.
Cooper retired in 1996. In the ensuing years, the University of Pennsylvania Perelman School of Medicine named a professorship for him, a Penn Internal Medicine clinic was named for him and, since 2009, the ·¬ÇÑÊÓÆµ has presented the Edward S. Cooper Award to a researcher, medical professional or organization whose many outstanding contributions to the Philadelphia community exemplify the best of humankind.
Cooper and his wife, Jean, also a physician, were married for 54 years, until her death in 2006.
Their daughter Lisa Hudgins is a pediatrician, and another daughter, Jan Cooper, practices internal medicine. A son, Charles Cooper, is a psychologist. Another son, E. Sawyer Cooper Jr., died of Hodgkin lymphoma at age 30. Three of the Edward and Jean Cooper’s grandchildren are also physicians.
for Dr. Edward Cooper are scheduled for Dec. 27 in Philadelphia.