Over his long career, Neil A. Grauer has been a journalist, a cartoonist, and a historian. But looking back from the perspective of his June 2021 retirement from the Johns Hopkins Medicine Office of Marketing and Communications after nearly two decades, it’s the books he wrote while there that stand out the most for him. “Those books will last,” he said. “I’m very proud of each one of them.”
Grauer is the author of the comprehensive “Leading the Way: A History of Johns Hopkins Medicine,” as well as multiple other books on Hopkins. His range is considerable, stretching from titles such as “The Special Field: A History of Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins” to a collaborative update of a classic guide to lacrosse, “Lacrosse: Technique and Tradition.” He jokes that the breadth of Hopkins Medicine knowledge he acquired inevitably would lead to countless phone calls he’d receive as a repository of Hopkins history. “I've said I should have had tattooed on my forehead, ‘It’s in the book,’ he said. “It’s like that old commercial for spaghetti sauce, ‘It’s in there.’”
Grauer, a 1969 graduate of the School of Arts and Sciences, was the third generation in his family to attend Hopkins. As a freshman in 1965, he joined the school paper, the Johns Hopkins News-Letter, and using self-taught cartoonist skills, he breathed new life into the Hopkins Blue Jay in 1966. Though the jay had been the school mascot since the 1920s, Grauer’s feisty interpretation was a fan favorite that ended up emblazoned on hats, t-shirts, trophies, lacrosse helmets and, occasionally, skin, as players had the Neil A. Grauer or “NAG Jay” tattooed on themselves. “I don’t get pay for any of this but I certainly get a huge psychic compensation,” he said. In one sign of appreciation for the character, Grauer was given one of the 2007 national championship helmets ― which skirted school rules by using his cartoon jay ― that had been signed by the entire lacrosse team. “It always amused me that Hopkins often described my cartoon as the “unofficial mascot for (decades),” which seemed pretty ‘official’ to me,” he said. “One writer said my Blue Jay is now eligible for an AARP card. But he’s also ageless, and I kind of like that.”
After graduating, Grauer worked for the Baltimore News-American as a reporter and cartoonist, and then for Vanguard Communications in Washington, DC. As a freelancer, he wrote op-ed pieces for the Baltimore Sun, Washington Post and Philadelphia Inquirer; and books, including a collection of profiles and caricatures of newspaper columnists and a biography of humorist and cartoonist James Thurber. He wrote history-oriented magazine pieces, dealing with topics like Stavindarius violins, Ernest Hemingway, and antique maps, honing abilities that enabled a smooth transition to his later in-depth historical work for Hopkins. “It really wasn’t a question of completely shifting gears, it was just adding to them,” he said. “I would often begin interviews with physicians or researchers by saying I’m an idiot, I’m a simpleton, I have no medical background and you'll have to take me by the hand and lead me through this stuff.”
His skill at interpreting for a public audience would serve him well throughout his time at Hopkins, he said, recalling one article on the Cameron Kravitt Foundation, which provides grants to medical schools to teach young pediatricians how to respond to the death of a child, that brought in thousands of dollars in donations.
Grauer was also responsible for the vast bulk of class notes, book reviews and memorial pieces included in Hopkins Medicine magazine for nearly two decades. The obituaries were a critical responsibility, reflecting on the work of luminaries like former School of Medicine Dean Richard Ross; cardiac surgeon pioneer Denton Cooley; in vitro fertilization pioneer Howard W. Jones, Jr. and his wife/collaborator, Georgianna Jones; and nuclear medicine pioneer Henry Wagner, among many others. His criteria for choosing an individual for an obituary was simple: if someone had spent decades at Hopkins, headed a department or division, made major scientific breakthroughs, or was known and beloved by all, they received an obituary “box,” along with a photo. That resulted in well over a thousand memorials written over his career.
“Writing obituaries is a demanding ― and sometimes delicate ― job,” Grauer said, noting that he tried to highlight the individual’s accomplishments and showcase their noteworthiness, but also touch upon their outside interests and personalities. “I tried to make the readers know why this person was special.”
Now that he’s retired, Grauer has begun thinking about a new form of history ― a memoir. “I’ve known a lot of interesting people. Some of the greats of Johns Hopkins, that would be a part of it.” But it would also include relationships and encounters built over years of interaction with figures from Hollywood and media. “I don’t know exactly how I’m going to put it together yet,” he mused. “I’ll just have to wait until I’m moved. Sometimes you have to wait until the thing percolates.”