Cynthia Glass was born in 1920, the year the 19th amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified, which gave women the right to vote, and her younger brother Robert was born in 1922. Her father Jacob owned a gas and service station in Houston, Texas. Jacob's wife Deborah stayed at home and reared their two children while being a seamstress on the side. Both were dutiful savers, ferreting money away for theirs and their children's futures. Jacob had gotten in on the ground floor of the automobile craze in the Roaring Twenties and had done quite well for himself even through 1929, when the market crashed. The gas and service station industry remained only slightly wounded during the Depression, and the Glass family did well, especially after Deborah started working part time at the local drug store. People needed gas, they needed their cars fixed, and they needed their prescription medications.
The Great Depression wasn't the most difficult obstacle for Jacob and Deborah Glass. Both were second generation German Jewish immigrants living in Texas, who had been forced to Anglicize their last name from Glas to Glass after World War I because of the national resentment against Germans. They attended temple services at a small local synagogue, not because they were particularly religious or observant, but because they could socialize in their own minority peer group. And a minority it was, since there were only around 15,000 Jews in the whole state of Texas in 1899 at the most recent count. Their synagogue was a basement of a friend's house. So, these experiences, along with the Great Depression, made Deborah and Jacob Glass resilient, ambitious, and determined people.
Despite being pregnant and busy with more than enough sewing jobs, Deborah was excited to be casting her first vote for President in 1920. Anxiety was high in the Glass household with work and pregnancy, but adding to this anxiety was that Deborah did not support the same candidate as her husband, who, while fairly liberated for his time, could still be a man of the old world on occasion. Deborah was an ardent supporter of Eugene Debs, the socialist candidate. She supported him for his stance on unions, and work protections for women and children, while Jacob supported Harding for his desire to decrease the income tax and federal spending. There were more than a few heated arguments in the Glass household in the months leading up to that November election. Jacob would call Deborah a "dreamer" who led with her emotions, and she would call him a "cold-hearted capitalist." By November, Jacob's candidate had earned the presidency and all he had to say to Deborah was, "Don't worry. This 'cold-hearted capitalist' won't gloat."
A few weeks later, Deborah delivered their first child, Cynthia Alice Glass, on December 1, 1920. She gave her first child the name Cynthia after an Elizabethan satirical play she had read by Ben Johnson called Cynthia's Revels. Cynthia had been another name for the goddess Diana in that story, but she preferred the former name to the latter one. Deborah chose to give her the middle name Alice after her favorite suffragette, Alice Paul.
The most important thing to Deborah and Jacob Glass was that their children received the best education they could. Over the next 18 years, they lived frugally and saved money for both of their children's education. Deborah was adamant that, like her brother, Cynthia should go to college, while Jacob found the prospect dubious at best, but nevertheless, supported his wife's wishes.
In 1932, the political climate in the Glass household changed dramatically after Hoover's disastrous presidency. Jacob had voted for Hoover as well, much to Deborah's chagrin, who voted for Smith. Jacob's pride at the Hoover win was short-lived after the market crashed when he began to see so much suffering around him. Finally, when Cynthia was 12, the Glass household was on the same page. Everyone wanted Franklin Roosevelt for President. Cynthia's parents were working a lot of extra hours to make it through the economy, but both found time to campaign for FDR.
Cynthia was mainly preoccupied with school, and the pressure to get perfect grades was sky high. A lot of her poorer classmates had had to drop out due to obligations at home. Some of them had been abandoned by their fathers and had to help raise siblings. Others had to leave to go find work in California. Cynthia knew she was fortunate and wanted to appreciate that fortune by doing well and not squandering her blessings and talents. At an early age, she knew she wanted to be a doctor. She saw that many needed doctors but couldn't afford them. She was a sensitive, "dreamer" type, like her mother, but this aspect of her personality became less idealistic and more realistic as a result of her experiences in college, and then medical school.
In 1938, Cynthia went to school on a full scholarship near home at the University of Houston. There were a lot of women at the University at that time, but most were studying education to go into teaching. She was only one of two women in her program studying biology, biochemistry, chemistry, and her pre-med core. Cynthia had experienced discrimination growing up Jewish in Texas during the Great Depression, but that discrimination was never as bad as when she was in the sciences as a woman in college. It was clear that the men either didn't want her there at all or pressured her for dates all the time. She was asked out frequently as she was a shapely, raven-haired young woman with deep brown eyes. Even a couple of professors made advances at her. But, she was single-minded in her pursuit of an education. It was easy to focus and to avoid the pressures at school by living at home during her undergraduate education. She loved her parents and the open-mindedness of their household and there was always a quiet place to study, especially while her brother was still in high school. It couldn't have been a more ideal situation.
Cynthia graduated top of her class, and she enrolled at Baylor College of Medicine in 1942. She immediately met resistance because administrators and professors were pressuring female students to either become nurses or pediatricians, but Cynthia wanted to study internal medicine, and work in a hospital and eventually have her own practice.
"Miss Glass, don't you think pediatrics would be a better fit, than internal medicine?" her bespectacled male admissions advisor asked.
"Why would I think that?" she said in the saucy manner she had inherited from her proto-feminist mother.
"Well, women are just excellently suited for the care of children," the man replied.
"Oh, are they?"
"Yes. Or wouldn't you prefer nursing even more? It's not as demanding of a program and if you get married, you won't be leaving such a prestigious career behind," he said.
"Listen, I did not graduate at the top of my class at the University of Houston so I could go into nursing. I want to be a doctor and that's what I came to Baylor for. My tuition is covered and I think that I should be able to study what I want and become what I want….And IF I get married, whether or not I leave any career behind is none of your business," she replied, completely disgusted. If only her mother could hear this.
"Suit yourself. But it's going to be a hard row to hoe," he said with a sigh.
"Why don't you let me worry about that?" she responded, as he filled out the requisite paperwork for her degree plan.
The male students at Baylor were a little more open-minded and accepting of Cynthia's presence, primarily because she had made it in as one of the few women in the medical school. This fact alone had earned her a modicum of respect and less harassment than at the University of Houston. There were still those that either wanted to bed or marry her, or both. She did decide to live on campus despite these pressures, thinking it more convenient for studying late at the medical library and working in the lab. She roomed with another female medical student who was one that wanted to study pediatrics. Her name was Jill Sanford and she was an equally diligent student. They studied together often. They ran interference for each other when the male students harassed either one. They eventually became close friends.
About three years into medical school, Jill fell in love with a fellow student who was also going to be a doctor.
"Are you going to finish your degree?" Cynthia asked.
"I don't know," Jill replied.
"You've come this far. It can't hurt to finish."
"We're getting married in 6 months and someone has to plan the wedding," Jill said.
"What about your mother or sister? Can't they plan it while you focus on your studies?" The idealist in Cynthia was concerned that her friend would give up on her dreams – the dreams that were made possible for women who made sacrifices before her.
"My mother and sister have different ideas about weddings and it would be a disaster if they planned it, and I'd have to step in and help anyway."
"I just can't believe you'd go this far and quit," Cynthia said in a woebegone manner.
"I can't believe you just can't be happy for me," Jill shot back.
"I am. I just think you're this close to finishing school and I think you should," Cynthia replied.
"It doesn't matter what you think. I love James, and I'm not getting any younger. I think I'd really just like to marry him and have children and have a simpler life. It's been a constant uphill battle and I'm tired," Jill replied.
"All the more reason to stick to it," Cynthia rebutted.
"Maybe for you," Jill said as she crossed her arms.
Cynthia took her friend's body language to mean that the discussion was over. "Well, I'm happy you've found someone you love. I'll be here if you need any help."
Jill uncrossed her arms and took a more relaxed pose, "Thanks. I wish I could be as single-minded as you. I know you will go far. If you need any help or support, I'll always be there for you too."
"Thanks," Cynthia said, and the two hugged.
Jill dropped out of medical school and moved back home to plan her wedding. Cynthia had their room to herself for the rest of her training at Baylor. It was lonely at times, but it was also nice to have a room of one's own.
Cynthia started her residency at Hermann Hospital on the Texas Medical Center campus in 1946. She was the only female in her residency cohort. It seemed to be the pattern that she started out with more female classmates in undergraduate than ended up with at the end of her training. She had heard about the dreaded "MRS. Degree" from a variety of sources. She had her nose so thoroughly planted in her books most of the time, that she didn't notice many of the men around her, or even the "disappearing" women who quit to get married. At Hermann Hospital, she was finally "out in the world," and feeling a part of it, instead of in what she realized was the artificial reality of college. There were real, practical experiences to be gained, real people who needed her, and colleagues that genuinely looked to her for her opinions. It was an exciting time for her and it shone all over her face.