Medical Show Premieres Tonight Featuring a Soror

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June 17, 2002, 6:43AM

TV series spotlights doctors at Hermann
By MIKE McDANIEL
Copyright 2002 Houston Chronicle
New York has Law & Order, Chicago has ER, Boston has Boston Public, even Providence, R.I., has Providence.


Now Houston has Houston Medical.

After more than a year of filming, Houston Medical arrives Tuesday. Episode 1 airs at 10 p.m. EST on ABC and continues for five weeks.

If it becomes a hit, it will be the first set in the nation's fourth-largest city. Previous attempts -- the CBS cop show Houston Knights, the ABC medical drama Buck James -- never took off.

But those shows did not approximate the power of Houston Medical, a reality/documentary series set at Memorial Hermann Hospital. The "stars" are our next-door neighbors -- the doctors, nurses, EMTs and LifeFlight operators who work at Hermann, along with their families and their patients.

They include a wily, seasoned trauma surgeon with a heart as big as his trademark moustache; a 27-year-old pediatrician struggling with a disease of her own; a microsurgeon so dedicated to his work that his wife feels neglected; a neonatologist who gets emotional while handling the preemies in her care; a motorcycle cop in danger of losing his leg; and a big-eyed boy with a wide, winning grin and a questionable medical future.

As eye-catching and heart-tugging stories unfold, they envelop the viewer with a feeling only the richest-scripted drama can equal.


Scouting a location for the show began in March 2001. Emmy-winning producers Chuck Bangert and Lou Gorfain had previously worked with Hermann's Dr. James "Red" Duke on a 1970s documentary series called Lifeline. That, plus Hermann's ethnic diversity, glistening facilities and willingness to participate won the producers over.

"The intent is to showcase the high level of care and compassion that's evident here," said James Eastham, senior vice president and CEO of Memorial Hermann. "We take care of the sickest of the sick. Our doctors, nurses and others are the best and the brightest anywhere."

The publicity factor cannot be overappreciated. The series is good press for the hospital, teaching hospitals in general, the University of Texas Medical School (of which Hermann is a part) and the Texas Medical Center, the world's largest.

No money changed hands, Eastham said, and Hermann gave the filmmakers unlimited and unsupervised access. The hospital had no editing rights, although it reviewed the tapes to ensure accurate medical terminology was used.

ABC was looking for something different from its own medical documentary from 2000, Boston 24/7, or the gore so often seen on cable medical series. Gorfain and Bangert promised intimacy. They shot a demo reel in April.

In May, ABC gave the producers the money to shoot six shows. Three teams have been filming round-the-clock since July, giving Bangert and Gorfain an overabundance of footage.

"The show was probably shot 200 to 1 because we filmed for so long," Bangert said. That means for every minute of film used in the series, 200 were not.

"We don't have the luxury of having a script and then casting a doctor or casting the star," he said. "We have to shoot it all. Most of them work out in the end."

But even when they do, they may not be used. The producers, who run an independent production company called New Screen Concepts, found better stories kept coming their way, edging out stories already shot.

"You think you've got a home run," Bangert said. "You've utilized eight days of that doctor's and patient's time. You think this is going to be a good story. Three weeks later, that turns out to be a double, because the new home run came in."

It sounds like a huge waste, and it is. This is one of the realities of "reality" programming -- and it's still cheaper than scripted drama. An episode of a top drama costs more than $2 million (more if it's ER). An episode of Houston Medical cost $700,000.

The extra film could still be used if ABC orders additional episodes, which likely would air either immediately after the six-week run or in January.

An extended run depends on the ratings, which depend on good reviews and word-of-mouth. Houston Medical is in the time slot usually occupied by the popular NYPD Blue. With the NBA playoffs over and little other competition (this being summer), success is a possibility.

One of the stories involves Dr. Mark Henry. For the premiere, he transplants a woman's toe to her hand, giving her a ring finger.

We also learn, through the course of the series, of the toll Henry's workload takes on his personal life.

Henry said he's happy with what he's seen so far, the first two episodes. He and others said they were not surprised at how personal the documentary became because, as Henry put it, "We were well-briefed that that was the point."

Dr. Terri Major-Kincade, the preemie doctor, found the filming "a mixed blessing." This is her second time to make it to TV; she was also filmed for the Lifetime series Women Docs.

"I was very excited about the venue, because there are not that many African-American faculty at medical schools, even though this is 2002," she said. "I saw it is as venue where people could see it's really possible to grow up, be a doctor, achieve your dreams and be on the faculty if you choose to do that. I see this as an opportunity for lots of people to see I'm just a regular girl. There are no pretensions here."

But being followed continuously by a camera eventually became a strain.

"It's been 10 months, and some of those months were difficult for me, and some of the personal aspects they had access to I found a little more difficult than the professional aspects," she said.

Prominently featured in the first episode, Major-Kincade breaks down after one of her tiny charges dies.

"I haven't seen the episode, but I remember thinking that night, `Oh my God, this is why they (the camera team) are here tonight.' They told me I made Episode 1, and I'm like, `Why am I on Episode 1? Everybody's just going to see me crying, just boo-hoo-hoo all night.' We're just doing our job, it's not like we have a script, and there are nights like that all the time."

Her embarrassment was short-lived, thanks to people like her mentor, Dr. Fernando Moya.

"Dr. Moya's like, `The day you stop crying is the day I want you to stop working for me. If you're not going to cry, you can't feel empathy, then you don't need to be here.' "

The cameras were never a problem for Cool Hand Duke, an old pro at the TV game. In addition to Lifeline, he was the man on whom Dennis Weaver based his Buck James character in 1987. And for years, he was a medical news contributor to KTRK's newscast.

"I don't pay any attention to the cameras," he said. "I get so focused on what I'm doing, I just barrel on, just like an old train on the track, y'know?"

Only one time has he ever wished the cameras were not on, and "it wasn't in this bunch," and it involved cursing, said Duke, who will appear briefly Tuesday, but pops up throughout the series.

Of all the stories that Houston Medical will tell during the next six weeks -- too many to mention here -- a standout is that of Dr. Marnie Rose. A 27-year-old pediatric resident, Rose reveals, in startling fashion, that she's not only a doctor but a patient. With a swipe at her wig, she reveals a bald head and the fact she has brain cancer.

She agreed to be part of Houston Medical for two reasons.

"One, I think Hermann's a great hospital, and I think we always get overshadowed in the big Medical Center," she said. "I'm really proud of all the people I work with and all the stuff we have there.

"Also, I thought it would be a good chance to let other people see that a positive attitude can help, and that they're not alone out there."

She goes on to mention a third reason:

"Actually, it's a great distraction for myself and my family. It gave us something to focus on besides being sick."

Rose is a lifelong Houstonian, the daughter of Elaine and Jerome Rose. She has been at Hermann for two years.

"I wouldn't have agreed to do this if there was anything that wasn't true or if it compromised the integrity of the piece or myself," she said. "Nothing was pushed on us that wasn't real."