What follows is an abbreviated description of an extraordinary life.
Dr. Randolph W. Seed always said he would die in some grand, dramatic fashion before succumbing to Alzheimer’s. He was wrong, but thankfully he did not know it. The fact that he made it to the age of 88 is testament to his incredible sense of direction, his intelligence, and his luck. Truthfully, because of his love for adventure, his poor time management, his need to explore the unexplored, his lack of fear, and his habit of never carrying a flashlight or supplies, he could have died many times, in many spectacular ways.
Randy was born in Oak Park, Illinois, in 1933, the youngest of four children to Dr. Lindon Seed and Frances Cathro. As a child, he loved to be active, ice skate, and make mischief. That love for mischief never left him and he carried his sense of humor with him throughout his life.
Randy graduated from Harvard College in 1954 and was subsequently drafted into the US Army during the Korean War. Per his luck, he was never sent to Korea, but instead he departed for Austria. He ended up in Linz, Austria and was quickly suspected of being an internal spy (a good story, but, alas, too long to do it justice here). Randy was never one to let opportunity pass him by, so he used this misunderstanding to create phony weekend passes for himself. He drove around Europe in a Volkswagen Beetle that he purchased directly from the VW factory in Wolfsburg, Germany. He was witness to the Austrian State Treaty in Vienna, and then, when he decided he’d had enough, he signed up to represent the Army in the trials for the 1956 Summer Olympic Games in the sport of sculling, a sport which he had never done before (note, he chose not to mention this small detail to the officials and there was no body of water nearby to test his abilities). He travelled back to the US for training and, having rowed in an eight-man crew at Harvard, he did well enough that he advanced to the semi-finals at the Olympic trials, thereby avoiding court martial for lying about his athletic resume.
Upon completing his Army commitment, Randy decided to follow his father and older brother, John, into medicine. He got his MD at the University of Chicago and a PhD in Biochemistry, also at UChicago. During his medical career, Randy was a well-respected general surgeon in Chicago and worked for many years at Grant Hospital in the Lincoln Park neighborhood, the same hospital where his father practiced.
Randy was meant to be a doctor. Besides being adroit in fine-motor skills, he had integrity, compassion, and empathy. He loved what he did and he lived his life based on the Hippocratic Oath. He strongly believed no one should be a bystander and he would leap into action whenever needed.
Randy loved competition. In particular, he loved the competition that he found through running. His fitness was not limited to running horizontally though, and he made his way into the 1977 Guinness Book of World Records for two records he set in 1970 and 1972: stair climbing a vertical mile in Chicago’s John Hancock building (5 round trips) in 2 hours, 53 minutes and 16 seconds and stair climbing 100 stories in 14 minutes and 29 seconds. Randy ran several marathons and ultra-marathons, his pinnacle race being the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run which he completed in under 27 hours. Much to his chagrin, Randy’s ability to push through the pain of ultra-running was not passed on to his five children (he had two children with his first wife, Donna Dubord, and three children with his second wife, Deborah Christy). What they did receive, however, was his love of skiing. During the winters, Randy was a volunteer member of the National Ski Patrol at Wilmot Mountain in southern Wisconsin. It was here that he instilled in his children an appreciation of ski racing.
As a child, he spent his summers in Lava Hot Springs, Idaho with his aunt and uncle, developing a love for the West and the Oregon Trail. Later, as an adult, he was one of the founding members of the Oregon-California Trail Association (‘OCTA’ for those in the know). Along with some other members from OCTA and National Geographic, he once dug up a pioneer grave that was falling into a ravine, and reinterred it to a safer place (National Geographic, Aug. 1986 edition). He got countless flat tires on “roads” that were not meant to be driven on, spent family summer vacations searching for wagon ruts along the Oregon Trail, and taught his children how not to become the Donner Party.
Randy enjoyed an adventure. If there was a snowstorm outside, the family would bundle up and go for a walk, enjoying the empty quiet streets because the rest of the city opted to stay safe and be inside. His children knew what the word “hypothermia” meant at early ages; they learned to keep walking during a storm if on top of a ridge; they knew to drive behind a truck when the highway was closed for a blizzard; and they knew that if you could move it, it wasn’t broken.
A loquacious man, Randy could speak to anyone, anywhere, and forever. He was once invited to a dinner party in Chicago and seated next to the writer Saul Bellow because the hostess was worried there would be no conversation. The breadth of his knowledge was remarkable – he could explain anything from how white chocolate was made to a detailed description of the intrinsic properties of quarks. All it took to get him started was one question. Occasionally, “conversations” with Dr. Seed could be mistaken for “lectures.”
Randy possessed a deep sense of curiosity and was fascinated by all things science and technology. He was an early adopter of consumer electronics and gadgets. He had an Apple III computer, a cell phone that was the size of a breadbox, and each Christmas he would come home with a new TV, stereo, or camcorder for the family.
Dr. Seed was innovative in his approach to problems and anticipated many new discoveries. As Chief of Surgery at Grant Hospital, he examined medical reports of his surgeons to determine which ones had good outcomes and which ones did not, looking for patterns and ways to improve their process. He strongly believed in reducing human error in medicine. This was an interest he shared with Charles Jacobs. Randy started working with Charles on the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Hospitals (JCAH). Together, they formed the company InterQual to develop service criteria for evaluating the appropriateness of admission and level of service for hospital patients, as well as discharge screens. He served on the board of InterQual for many years. In addition, he also served on the board of the Chicago Medical Society, was President of the Chicago Cancer Society, and was President of the University of Chicago Biological Sciences Alumni Association.
During the 1970s, Randy and his brother, Richard, developed advanced reproductive techniques to produce high-yield milk cows. They then adapted their technique for humans and formed the company Fertility & Genetics Research, Inc. The brothers were the first to successfully complete human embryonic transfers, aka “in vivo fertilization,” the forerunner to IVF. The procedure removed an embryo from a fertile donor and transferred it to an infertile woman who would carry the baby.
Randy was a DIY fanatic before that was a thing. He rewired his entire apartment in the historic 999 Lake Shore Drive building where he lived for 40 years using only Time Life books as a reference; he washed the windows of his 2nd floor unit by standing on a narrow ledge for all of Lake Shore Drive (eight lanes of highway) to see; he built a fire road at his ranch in Idaho and ironically, started an 80-acre fire in the process. If something was broken, there was no need to hire someone…he could do it himself, and he always did, much to Deborah’s consternation.
Randy and Deborah were married for 52 years. Deborah loved the fact that Randy cried at Disney movies, that he held her hand whenever he could, that he believed in equality and science, that he took his family everywhere with him, that he was generous to everyone, and that he loved his children and her immensely.
Once when asked by his teenage son about the meaning of life, he responded, “Calculus.” Science was his religion and Randy was not one for sentiment when it came to death. As a doctor, he took a very clinical approach and stated, “The human body is like a machine that wears out with time.” And so, now at age 88, after many repairs, his time has come to an end. In lieu of donating in his memory, he would love to be remembered. And he would be satisfied if he could pass on a few aphorisms:
- Find a job you enjoy. Life is too short to be miserable.
- It’s human nature to only remember the bad days. There must be some good days to remember as well.
- One can eat whatever they want, as much as they want, and never gain weight as long as they run 70 miles a week.
- Growl like a tiger at the start of the race.
Dr. Randolph W. Seed passed away peacefully surrounded by family in Acton, MA. He is survived by his wife Deborah (Christy), children Deeda (Larry Holder) of Salt Lake City, UT, Lindon (Hayley) of Ennis, MT, Allison of Pope Valley, CA, Vanessa (Sverre Melbye) of Oslo, Norway, Jennifer (Michael Reis) of Concord, MA, and grandchildren Noah, Joseph, Victoria, Serena, Emmett, Owen, Wyatt, Oakley, and Abigail Rose.