Far too often, the complex history of Lebanese immigration is collapsed into a few “success” stories, measured by accumulation of fame and fortune. Such tales are certainly real and admirable, but fall short of telling the whole story of immigration. They warp our expectations of what makes for success by projecting the false impression that accumulation of money and celebrity was/is the only reality of immigrant life and work, and that it is the only thing worthy of recognition. Such simplistic narratives ignore the rich and varied experiences that define Lebanese immigration. Among the most glaring elisions are of those individuals who shunned the pursuit of money, and in its place sought after social justice and equality for their immigrant community and society as a whole. Lebanese diasporic community organizers, avant garde intellectuals, and activists were instrumental in these alternative pursuits, in transforming their host societies for the better, and envisioning a more progressive and equitable Lebanon. Yet, they rarely are celebrated in news reports, or on award stages.
One of these unheralded crusaders is Dr. Herbert Nassour, Jr., who dedicated his life to bringing affordable healthcare to the poor, the homeless, the sharecroppers and poor farmers, and to the downtrodden in Texas.
Herbert Nassour, Jr. was larger than life. It is not simply that he was—as his wife Hoda described her first impression of him at the port of Beirut in 1937—an imposing “tall Texan [football player] with broad shoulders,” whose parents had immigrated from the villages of Khirbeh and Haqel, in Lebanon. Nor is it that he grew up in a racially divided Texas, where he fought for every opportunity from schooling to work, because he and his friends were deemed less than white. His attempt to bring rural healthcare to the villages of Mount and South Lebanon, his service in WWII in the US Army and encounters with King Abdallah of Saudi Arabia are also just glimpses of his remarkable legacy. Even his crusade to bring affordable healthcare to Texans does not tell the whole story of this giant of a man.
Rather, Hebert Nassour looms large even today because of the sum of these various parts, which speak of a tireless, dogged, lifelong and selfless pursuit to serve others. His calling was partly an inheritance from a pioneering grandfather and an activist mother. In other parts, it was shaped and crystallized by his own encounters with race, poverty and power from the streets of Lockhart, Texas (where he was born and raised), through the halls of universities, and into the farming fields of Lebanon and Texas.
Herbert, Jr. was born in 1917 to Mary Moses and Herbert Nassour, Sr. From his mother he learned, among other things, to speak out against injustices. It was she who first refused to accept the racially divided world of Lockhart, and who fought “to change all that.” Mary grew up knowing the impact of discrimination. In 1901, when she was seven and dressed in a new dress and shoes that “Papa bought in San Antonio,” Mary went for her first day at elementary school in Lockhart only to be turned away and told that she could not sit and learn with white children, but must attend the school for “Mexicans.” She later recalled, “the Mexican school wasn’t really a school at all,” but a mud-filled room with a teacher “who was always drunk.” Referred to later in life as “La Madre de los Mexicanos,” by local Latino sharecroppers, Mary parlayed this and other personal experiences with bigotry into a life of helping and interceding on the behalf of the sharecroppers, many of whom did not speak English. Appearing in court or at the cotton ginner and speaking on their behalf, or translating for them at the doctor’s office became a regular part of her daily life and activism. When Father Shanahan would interrupt mass and order all Hispanic congregants to leave, for fear of offending the wealthy whites in church, Mary scolded him and told him how un-Christian he was. In this manner, Hebert, Jr. grew up learning from her the importance of fighting for human dignity.
From his maternal grandfather, Nasrallah Moses, he learned how to fight in a different way. An early lesson came on his first day of elementary school in Lockhart, when he was chased by a group of white boys throwing rocks and racial epithets—“Dirty Dago!”—at him. Visibly upset, he ran to the safety of his grandfather’s store. When Nasrallah learned what happened, he told Herb: “Don’t run away…You got to fight ‘til you can’t fight no more.” With what would become a lifelong mantra, Herb went outside to face his tormentors and stare down a white supremacy predicated on fear and violence. Nasrallah soon separated the boys, gave each one a candy stick and walked them to their homes where he told their parents: “You got to teach your boys to get along with other people before it’s too late.”
Herb channeled his anger at subsequent injustices into similar headstrong confrontations and refused to back down. It was his “aggressiveness” on the football field that allowed him to enter the “whites only” Lockhart High School. It was the same attitude that he displayed in restaurants or drugstores where waiters would refuse to serve him or his friends until they sat in the backroom with African Americans and Latinos. He would throw plates at them, or break the malted milk glass and refuse to budge from his spot.
But some things he could not change, certainly not as a teenager. One incident in particular left an indelible impression on him, and firmed his decision to become a doctor. Among the customers of his parents’ store in Lockhart, was a young Hispanic sharecropper named Tony Garcia. Tony brought his wife, who was in her second day of a very difficult labor, into town to find a doctor with the help of Herb. As they went from one doctor to the next pleading for help, the only response they received was a demand for money upfront before treatment. Without the means to pay in advance, all Herb and Tony could do was transport her to Nassour’s home where Mary tried to save both mother and child. By that time, it was too late and both passed away.
In the face of this unnecessary and cruel tragedy, Herb became resolute in his decision to become a doctor who would care for the poor and neglected. But his path to this goal was, once more, blocked by racial barriers in Texas. After finishing his undergraduate studies at the University of Texas in 1936 with high grades, he was turned down by the two Texas medical schools, Baylor in Dallas and John Sealy in Galveston, because they would not accept non-whites. His boiling frustration with an unjust system finally forced Herbert to leave the United States—at the recommendations of a Jewish doctor at John Sealy—and go back to Lebanon where he enrolled in the medical school of the American University of Beirut.
In Lebanon, Herbert not only excelled in medical school, but he was also finally not a “minority.” His days at AUB among other Arab medical students, eating foods familiar to him from his childhood, and surrounded by his large extended family, all gave him a sense of belonging that he could ease into rather than have to fight for every step of the way. Yet, challenges remained albeit in the form of abject poverty and lack of medical care that he witnessed in his parents’ natal villages. On his trips to Khirbeh, Haqel and other rural parts of Lebanon he found outbreaks of typhoid, malaria and dysentery, as well as parasitic diseases that were as rampant as they were easy to contain. Life expectancy for men was around forty years and lower for women, and infant mortality was high. Solutions were relatively easy: inoculation against diseases like typhoid, deep-pit latrines to improve hygiene, and providing supplies of medicine and healthcare providers. But resources were another matter in a city where the bourgeoisie either did not know of, or did not want to see, the desperate conditions that prevailed a few miles outside Beirut, or in the city’s poorer quarters. Undaunted, by the time he left Lebanon shortly after WWII—with his wife Hoda whom he met and married in Lebanon, and their three children—he had worked with other AUB medical students and professors to establish seven rural healthcare clinics.
With this same zeal he returned to Texas to finish his residency and begin a life-long career of securing healthcare for those deprived of it by structures and attitudes of social and economic prejudices and racism. In Hamilton, Garland and then finally Austin, Herbert and Hoda Nassour built community hospitals that sought to bring affordable care to the poor and needy. But his efforts at introducing universal healthcare (standard small fees for procedures, distributing cost among larger annual subscribers, and providing free care for those who could not afford it) throughout his 40 years of practice in Texas he met with unyielding resistance, and unscrupulous tactics, by local doctors, the Texas Medical Association, and the growing health insurance business.
Their efforts were successful, as measured by how many times they forced Dr. Nassour to close his operation (at least three) and face disciplinary action on trumped up charges (four or five). Nonetheless, despite these disruptions, Herbert succeeded spectacularly and in immeasurable ways when we look at the number of people he treated and helped, and at the immense pressure he created on other physicians and hospitals to follow his lead or explain why—as individuals and institutions dedicated to help people—they refused to provide care. So, while Dr. Nassour started his career with the tragedy of being unable to help Tony Garcia’s wife in Lockhart, he was able to save the life of Hernanda Martinez in Austin even after she was turned away from every hospital in town because she could not pay.
These two incidents bookend a career of a Lebanese-American who—like his fellow physician in Oklahoma, Dr. Michael Shadid—neither amassed fortune nor accolades. What money he had he gave away or put into community hospitals. He and Hoda opened their homes to countless people in need, and he shepherded the careers of many future doctors including his own daughter-in-law. Throughout his career, he bypassed rules and borders in order to achieve his goal of providing comfort and quality medical care to those in need regardless of who they were.
28 responses on “Fighting Injustice: The Story of Herbert Nassour”
How inspiring! Jason Nassour, you have a great bloodline. Best wishes.
What a truly brave and I spring story of an entire family. We should all be inspired to do the most we can to help those around us.
Remarkable and well written. I am still so much in awe and very proud as well as lucky. He was my dad. I wish everyone could have been as lucky as me. Hi daddy
Love you Fay, I am very proud that you are a doctor and I can call you cousin.
Great biography that summarizes good vs bad , a one-person strength vs social injustice..
He was a wonderful man, much loved and greatly missed.
Thank you for this article. I know many of the Nassour children in Austin. Herbert Nassour taught his children a fundamental respect for other people. They live this value today, and this story explains where it comes from.
I was lucky to grow up with him as my patriarch, loving and caring yet demanding of our best, no our very best!!! I remember the first and last time I saw him!! I love him with all my heart!!
What a great article! I knew Dr. Nassour and he was everything and more as described in this story. You might think that he would have carried hatred and biases with him throughout his life because of the treatment he and his family received growing up in segregated Lockhart. He certainly did not. Dr. Nassour treated me and my siblings as his own, which further exemplifies his true character. Put simply, I loved this man and feel fortunate to have known him. Thanks for writing this, it’s time people knew what a treasure his life was.
So glad his son, Sammie sent this to me.
I knew Dr. Nassour fought many battles with the AMA and was frowned upon as he worked to help patients in need. Yet I had no idea the depth of his alienation due to his race.
My memories of him include listening to him talking to his kids about the love of family and respect for all people, which they learned well.
My favorite memory of him was the day he delivered our son, Michael!
Your family is rightly proud of your father.
Thanks for sharing Sam! Truly enjoyed it and a powerful/inspiring story, indeed!
I am glad I met him. He was a great man. He would make time to treat people in Juarez, Mexico free of charge and always took care of my family in El Paso. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, his whole family is very kind. I miss him…
Such a great article!I also have the picture of him boxing,Paul had it for years. Thanks so much again!He definitely was one of a kind.
Dr Nassour’s son Dr Paul Nassour was a remarkable doctor in his own right and this article explains so much about what the elder passed on to his son.
So very true about Paul! He is so missed in Ga. from all the patients he cared for selfishly! He also helped so many people in other ways too!
So proud to be Lebanese- American Mr. Nassour truly reflects our traditional concern with social justice. My own Lebanese mother was an activist for homeless animals & staunch supporter of dignity for Latin immigrants. We didn’t need oil money we have enough integrity to contribute on our own
Wow, an amazing life of dedication !! His family certainly must feel so proud of his legacy ❤️
What an inspiring article of a Lebanese-American. From young boxer to an amazing American doctor!
This is a very interesting story of a Lebanese immigrant’s son born in 1917 and raised in Lockhart, Texas. His childhood was marked by segregation and racial division, rigid barriers in the school system and throughout the community, limited economic opportunities, subjection to racial epithets, and poverty.
After medical school with his eye and his heart firmly fixed on improving the community, Dr. Herbert Nassour, Jr., devoted his life to building a medical system to provide access to health care.
His life is a story of immigrants’ contribution to the quality of American life, done against the hobbling strictures of racism and poverty.
Beautiful article. I worked at Dr Nassour;s clinic in Austin, Texas which was located near St. Edward’s University. Dr Nassour never refused anyone who walked into the clinic.
Dr Nassour and wife Hoda gave all of their time to those in need.
Thank you caring for those in need
Thank you for fascinating article.
does Dr. Nassour’s Clinic still exists? can you share more details about it?
My life was shaped by many honorable and visionary people.their knowledge, vision and courage inspired me … but sadly I could not reach their level of sacrifice and dedication.
I was fortunate as a young Brother to work at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Hospital in Austin and train under Dr. Nassour. I was privileged to share the hospitality and remember the saintly goodness of his wife, Hoda and their gifted children.
It was there I saw how the medical establishment failed to meet the needs of hard working, poor Hispanic families.
I delivered my first babies under his tutelage and learned to first assist him in surgery. But more importantly learned the need to serve all in need, despite “color” or belief or economic status.
It was an inspiration at the time, and a legacy of commitment, transcendent value and a vision of what is possible if we simply love one another.
Great Story about a wonderful man.
I met Dr. Nassour as an undergrad at St. Edward’s University in the late 60’s. I went on to medicall school in Guadalajara. I’ve practiced Ob-Gyn in Carmel, IN since 1978.
Now preparing a lecture for 20-30 resident physicians, interns, students on the
Qualities of a Good Physician. Obviously Dr. Nassour came to mind and my search led me here.
I would love to have a different picture of him at the hospital or in their home that I could use in the lecture.
Not enough space here to express how grateful and fortunate I was to have met Dr. Nassour. I think of him often and tell my students about my good fortune there at his hospital in Austin. So many wonderful learning experiences.
Timothy Feeney, M.D.
I have only learned of Dr Herbert Nassour lately, yet I feel I know him.
You see, I have had the great privilege of meeting his son Jimmy Nassour.
I can clearly imagine his father. His son Jimmy is everything that I have learned of Dr Nassour , that stood out above the rest.
You see, good, sincere, honest and a hardworking ethic way beyond the norm.
I consider myself so lucky to have made a random call to a stranger a few years ago, and that stranger is everything Dr Nassour could have wished for in a person, his son and family are special, the more you get to know his son, the more you appreciate the good this family has instilled within their souls.
Their fathers legacy still lives on.
Be as proud of your children, as they are of you Dr Nassour.
Proud of Dr Nasour, he is a legend
I have just come across this story via watching the video on The961.com, I am in tears of watching the video and reading up on the life of a true Lebanese- American Giant. I wish I could have met and known Dr. Nassour. May he and his deceased family members rest in Eternal Peace and their memories be Eternal.
God Bess You All.
This sounds like the Dr I worked with at “Mt Carmel” in Austin. I thought his name was Henry. He was a very caring man,who had a lot of trouble because he bucked the “system.” I learned a lot from him. I thought his name was Henry,tho. I believe he had a son,who also became a Dr. He cared deeply for those who were unable to get care,elsewhere.