March 19, 2006
Page: LIFE Section of Morris County Daily Record
Former Morris man leaves medicine behind for life with a guitar
ELLEN S. WILKOWE DAILY RECORD
Russ Rentler's beeper tells an abbreviated version of his story. A musical riff greets the caller and then this: "You've reached Dr. Rentler's beeper; please put in your phone number and I'll reach you as soon as possible."
The riff was played on his homemade hammer dulcimer, and yes, he is a doctor, but once removed.
The 47-year-old doctor-turned-musician traded in his medical supplies for a banjo, three guitars and a mandolin, the shortened list of his acoustical collections.
"In June 2002 I was done," said Rentler, who grew up in Hanover and now lives in Emmaus, Pa. "I gave up my practice and found a local hospital to take me on part-time and pay malpractice insurance. It was the most amazing deal in the world. I could do what I always wanted to do, writing songs."
This was no spur-of-the-moment decision for Rentler. His career switch was sparked by several life crises that made this internist examine himself.
There's an oath that goes back to the time of Hippocrates
Says a man should never try to treat his own disease
If he takes his own medicine, a fool he will be
He'll have a fool for a doctor.
-- from the song "Fool for a Doctor" by Russ Rentler
His wife of 11 years and high school sweetheart, Sue, died of a rare form of slow-growing lung cancer in 1994. She had been diagnosed during their third year of marriage. Their two sons, Jonathan and Benjamin, were 4 and 7 when she passed away.
The pain Old Doc was feeling sharp as a knife.
It had started sometime after he had lost his wife.
It was the ache of regret and a half empty life
It was the pain of no return; it was the pain of no return.
"I was working 70 hours a week and never saw her and the two little guys, Rentler said.
He ran a solo practice from 1989 to 1995 before joining a group. Dissatisfied with the money-making focus of his fellow practitioners, he went solo again from 1999 to 2002.
The second eye-opener came in the form of malpractice insurance rates.
"It took me six, seven years to burn out, but I really came around in 2000 during the malpractice crisis when rates doubled," he said. "The only way to maintain income is if I were to force people through and cattle herd them. I never practice like that. I would see about 15 to 20 people a day at the most. I did not make a million dollars, but it paid the bills."
The point of no return came on Sept. 11, 2001.
"9/11 happened and that made everyone say what is really important in life, family and loved ones," he said.
I got up this morning and I put on the TV, there were burning towers in New York.
Taking body bags out of the smoking rubble like a bad dream I've had before
So I stayed home with my boys and we watched it on TV
And we thought about the way things might have been.
Too young for Vietnam, too old for the Gulf
I slipped somewhere in between
The prophet said, "those times they're a-changin'
But things look quite the same to me.
-- from the song "The Way Things Might Have Been" by Russ Rentler
So what path led this latent folk musician to medical school?
It started in the mid-1970s, when this Whippany Park High School student got hold of a bluegrass album.
Goodbye electric guitars, hello acoustic awakening.
"I was in a rock band with my brother and they kicked me out," Rentler said.
Rentler's yearbook prophecy said he would move to Chicago and discover the roots of blues. He also won the senior superlative of "most musical" in 1976.
He went on to Moravian College in Bethlehem, Pa., where he met fellow student John Gorka during an open mic night. They formed a bluegrass band, the Razzy Dazzy Spasm Band, which later included another Moravian student, Richard Shindell.
After college, Gorka went on to become a household name in the folk music world. He honed his talents at Godfrey Daniels coffee house in Bethlehem and later hit the Greenwich Village circuit. Today he has nine CDs and a large following.
Shindell dabbled in philosophy and religion, keeping music close at hand. He has recorded six CDs since 1992 and gained his own following among folk music fans.
Rentler graduated in 1980 with a degree in biology and uncertainty.
"There were no jobs at the time," he said. "So I ended up working in a factory, Dairy Pak, which made milk cartons. It was brutal working on a conveyor belt."
His fiance, Sue, a nurse, encouraged him to be a doctor. He threw the suggestion to the winds of fate.
"It was a fluke," he said. "I applied to medical school, and if I got in I would take it as a sign that I'm supposed to go."
Sure enough, he was accepted and attended the University of Medicine and Dentistry in Newark. He took up a residency at Temple University in Philadelphia, where he specialized in internal medicine.
Rentler suffered from a professional identity crisis.
"I never looked in the mirror and said, 'I'm glad I'm a doctor,'" he said. "It didn't light my fire. On the weekends I never told anyone I was a doctor. I didn't drive fancy cars. It was just an identity I put on Monday mornings when I went to work."
He was smart and caring enough to be a doctor, absolutely, said long-time friend Bryon Pinajian of Randolph
"But music is his life," Pinajian said. "He's always been geared toward music."
Pinajian met Rentler at Memorial Junior Middle School in Whippany in the late '60s. Rentler was best man at Pinajian's wedding.
Pinajian assumed his friend would become a doctor because of his straight-A status, but said perhaps Rentler got caught up in a head vs. heart dilemma.
"Your parents, culture and society tell you one thing, and you do it, even if your heart's not into it," Pinajian said. "I mean, his heart was into being a doctor for a while, but like many of us you get to a point when you ask yourself, 'Do I really want to do this for the rest of my life?'"
The life Rentler has now keeps him in check.
He has remarried. His wife, Deborah, a career counselor, supported his decision to leave his practice and pursue his passions. His younger son, Benjamin, is a sophomore in high school. His other son, Jonathan, is a sophomore in college.
Since departing medicine full-time, Rentler has recorded four CDs, "thanks to a new life with time, something I never had before," he said.
His contract with the hospital has him tending to nursing home patients and teaching medical residents the principles of caring for the elderly. He also has time for his family and music.
"The life I have is what drives the music,"he said. "The personal angst and day-to-day things of raising kids, being a faithful husband and contributing to society.
"Music is self absorbing. The physician takes me out of myself and the me, me, me. Medicine takes me back to reality," he said. "Taking care of elderly people at the end of their life restores values and I am thankful for that."
As a musician on the folk circuit, his doctor status, or any job status, gets in the way.
"When you're trying to get gigs at folk venues, you don't feel like you're suffering enough if you're not willing to live out of a car and starve to death," he said. "But I starved in college and medical school.
"There's this element of the music scene, that if you have a part-time job that you're not a real musician. Being a doctor ends up helping my music."
Pinajian said he cherishes his long friendship with Rentler.
"It's pretty unusual to keep in touch for 30-plus years, through all the changes in life, but we always picked up where we left off," he said. "It's matter of catching up."
Rentler takes pride in living simply. A trip to Haiti organized by his church 10 years ago further realigned his values to what really matters.
"It's one of the poorest countries in the world," he said. "It was so horrendous that when coming back I said I'll never go there again. Three months after the experience, I said I had to get back down there."
He traded in his four-bedroom colonial "a little McMansion," and moved to a smaller house in Emmaus.
He continues to volunteer annually at the clinic in Port-au-Prince, where many suffer from malnutrition, malaria, tuberculosis, worms and infections caused by starvation.
After his sixth mission, he wrote the song "Jewel of the Caribbean," which can be found on his first CD, "Acoustic Minstrel."
You still are that jewel
And that shine you can't lose
You got something they can't take away
I don't think I deserve to tie your shoes
Till I walked a mile in your shadows
"It resets my greed receptors," he said. "I come back from Haiti and realize I don't need that other guitar. These people are so poor they teach me. I get a lesson out of it of what's important in life."
Ellen S. Wilkowe can be reached at (973) 428-6662 or ewilkowe@gannett.com.
Russ on the Road:
Russ Rentler will perform at the Jefferson Township Library, 1031 Weldon Road, Oak Ridge, April 7 at 7:30 p.m. Call (973) 208-6115. For more information, visit www.russrentler.com.
