The obituaries of Nancy Reagan concentrated on her devotion to the most important person in her life — her husband, President Ronald Reagan. Less attention was focused on her stepfather, Dr. Loyal Davis, unquestionably the second most important person in her life and possibly in that of President Reagan as well.

Davis, one of the pre-eminent neurosurgeons in Chicago at the time, ruled the operating room at Passavant Memorial Hospital (now part of Northwestern Memorial Hospital) with an iron fist for more than 30 years. He could charitably be described as a larger-than-life character.

I encountered the legend of Loyal Davis indirectly in 1975, long after he had retired to Arizona. I was a senior in medical school taking my oral final exam in surgery, which was administered by another Northwestern surgery professor. The prof questioned me about anatomy and surgical technique, and I flailed for answers. An honors designation was out of the question; I prayed for a "pass" so I would not have to repeat six weeks of surgery. Then came his last question, which was not about anatomy or technique,

"Who is Loyal Davis?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I had no clue. Bluffing was out of the question. With visions of another surgical rotation in my future, I gulped and said tremulously, "I don't know."

The "sword of Damocles" hung precariously over my head. Suddenly, he shocked me and bellowed, "That's the right answer! That SOB thought everyone would remember him forever. I just love to hear students say they don't know who he is."

It turned out the professor was trained by Davis, and every student was asked about Davis as part of his or her orals.

"All right, you passed — barely. Now get out of here." With a wry smile, the prof sent me on my way.

After that, I wanted to find out about Davis. He was one of the country's most distinguished surgeons, but by most accounts he was not a nice man to work with or for. Imperious, and a martinet both inside and outside the operating room, he was liked by some residents and students, hated by others, but feared by all. A summons to his office was an encounter to be dreaded.

Politically, Davis was a staunch conservative, who detested socialized medicine and any other form of government intervention in medicine. He was quite outspoken with hidebound views on issues medical and nonmedical. Although personally aloof, Davis took a liking to his new son-in-law when Nancy married Ronald Reagan in 1952. The father-in-law enjoyed sharing his political views with the actor, and many sources credit Davis with being among the most important people in the transformation of Ronald Reagan from a liberal Democrat in the 1940s into the conservative Republican he became in the 1950s and for the rest of his life.

Two years after my exam, my roommate had the same surgical professor for his orals. Before his exam, I told him what the final question would be. My roommate wanted to know who Loyal Davis was so he could correctly answer the surgery professor. I told him but said if you trust me you'll say you don't know. Sure enough, my roommate was asked the trick question and, demonstrating his trust in me, said he didn't know. I think he got an honors.

The epilogue to this story came a couple of years later, when Reagan was elected president and Loyal Davis recommended his partner, Dr. Daniel Ruge, to be Reagan's White House physician. Ruge accepted and handled the position masterfully. He especially distinguished himself in coordinating Reagan's care after the president's 1981 assassination attempt, when his life was truly in jeopardy.

Loyal Davis has been dead for more than 30 years. I'm sure most current medical students don't know the name, but I will not forget him.

My old surgery professor would probably fail me today.

Cory Franklin is a Wilmette physician and author of "Cook County ICU: 30 Years of Unforgettable Patients and Odd Cases."

Loyal Davis (1896)