February 14, 2025

"My ministry is medicine," is how Dr. Robert Collins, former TriHealth physician and current board of trustee member, described his dedication to serving others. His career exemplifies adaptability, perseverance, and a steadfast commitment to placing patients at the center of care.

His accomplishments were honored when he received the Cincinnati Business Courier's 2018 Health Care Heroes Lifetime Achievement Award. In an interview with the newspaper, Dr. Collins recounts his journey from being the son of a minister to becoming TriHealth’s Chief Medical Officer.

Dr. Bob Collins has been a trailblazer at TriHealth

By Barrett J. Brunsman, February 2018

Dr. Bob Collins became a physician by mistake. He enrolled at the University of Cincinnati in hopes of being a pharmacist. That evolved into a desire to be a scientist. Ending up as chief medical officer of TriHealth, a hospital system that employs 600 physicians, wasn’t what the native of Washington, D.C., envisioned upon arriving in town in 1965.

His path included being the first African American elected to UC student government, which was followed by a decade as a surgeon in solo practice because local physician groups didn’t welcome blacks. 

By the time he retired in January after more than 40 years as a physician, Collins had helped transform how medicine is practiced – and how leadership decisions are made at TriHealth.

Collins, 70, recipient of the Business Courier’s Health Care Heroes Lifetime Achievement Award for 2018, didn’t set out to become a trailblazer. “Things kind of fell in place,” he said. 

What he views as the top achievement of his career happened recently.

That would be the integrated leadership team he helped create at TriHealth, which includes managers, physicians and nurses. They meet to decide on major clinical initiatives. The council is led by the chief medical officer and the chief operating officer, so he chaired the group with COO Gail Donovan. 

“That was the crowning glory,” Collins said. “It’s just over the past year and a half that we put this together. The vision of TriHealth was to become a truly integrated system, and that came into fruition when Mark Clement took over (as CEO in 2016).”

There was a time when the influence of doctors and nurses waned, Collins said. Health care became a management process. 

“Now, the physicians, nurses and other clinicians such as pharmacists are moving into a chapter of their existence where they are taking back control of health care,” he said. “It puts the patient back in No. 1 position. 

“My heart was really in taking care of patients,” he said. “I can close my eyes and still see the smiles on people’s faces when you got them through a tough operation.”

And yet, how he became a surgeon was a fluke. A case of appendicitis helped determine his career.

Twist of fate

A junior internship in medical school influenced Collins to become a health care provider rather than a scientist. A senior resident at the UC Medical Center let Collins perform surgery on a patient, which was unusual for an intern. The appendectomy was a success.

“That got my juices flowing. I said, ‘I know what I’m going to do the rest of my life.’ I went into surgery,” he said.

He had planned to head to the West Coast after graduating from the UC College of Pharmacy. The decision to attend medical school was influenced by a UC student who caught his eye. She wasn’t ready to leave her hometown.

Deborah Wright Collins is now his wife of 48 years.

They met while he was handing out pamphlets on campus as a candidate. Collins became the first African American elected vice president of UC’s student government in 1968. 

Among those who persuaded Collins to run was United Black Association president Dwight Tillery, who would become mayor of Cincinnati and is now CEO of Closing the Health Gap. 

“The idea was it was time minorities had a voice on campus,” recalled Collins, a member of the UBA student group. “I was drafted to run. I had good grades, and I kept my nose clean. I wasn’t the political animal, but I saw the importance of doing that and the statement that it made.” 

Another twist of fate was a suggestion that he attend UC medical school. Dr. Jerome Berman, a gastroenterologist, heard Collins speak about student unrest during a panel discussion at a community center. Berman asked whether he had considered becoming a doctor. 

“I was in pharmacy school, and doctors were not my favorite people,” Collins said. Pharm students had to do internships at drugstores or hospitals, “and my interaction with physicians was less than optimal. I would have to call them up and ask for refills on prescriptions for their patients, and frequently they were just jerks.”

After Collins shared that, Berman replied: “Maybe you can be the first one that’s not a jerk.” 

The doctor gave Collins an application to the UC College of Medicine. On a lark, Collins submitted it. Afterward, he learned Berman was on the admissions committee.

Collins began as a solo practitioner in Cincinnati after completing a residency and a fellowship at New York Presbyterian/Columbia University Medical Center, one of the nation’s top hospitals. He was asked to join the faculty, but Collins didn’t care for Manhattan.

“I lived in housing for Columbia University resident physicians, and the rent was $500 more a month than they paid me,” Collins said. “It was indentured servitude.”

However, when he returned to Cincinnati in 1982, “the medical community was very segregated,” Collins said. “I couldn’t get a job with any of the white surgical groups. They were not looking for black surgeons. So I just hung up my shingle.”

“Then, I broke my arm,” he said. Collins fell off a ladder while trimming a hedge for his in-laws. His right elbow was fractured. It was the arm he used to wield a scalpel. 

The orthopedist who treated Collins wanted to put on a cast. Collins insisted that it had to be one he could take off to do surgery. Operating with a broken arm was painful, but he couldn’t afford to wait until the elbow healed.

He had moved back to Cincinnati with $25 in his pocket. Collins, his wife and their daughter lived in the basement of his in-laws’ home for the first three months, until he could establish loans and open an office.

 The invitation

A decade later, Collins attended a meeting at which an insurer was pressuring doctors to join large groups to create economies of scale.

“You are doing what Jim Crow couldn’t do,” Collins told the insurer. “It would put all the black physicians out of business if you do this.”

Collins noted that it seemed impossible for him because white doctors didn’t typically invite blacks to join their groups. That discussion prompted the insurer to modify its plans, Collins said. 

Also as a result, another doctor at the meeting invited him to join a group. Collins became a partner with Queen City General and Vascular Surgeons, which is now part of TriHealth.

“When you work with people day and night and you struggle beside them, the superficial identities start to rub away and you get to know them,” Collins said of how race became irrelevant.

Collins would become chairman of the Department of Surgery at Bethesda North Hospital in Montgomery. His peers elected him to the position, which was unpaid but prestigious.

He stopped seeing patients after becoming a full-time administrator for TriHealth 10 years ago. One of the things he enjoyed most about the job was developing new physician leadership.

Collins “taught me more about leadership than any other physician I have known,” said Dr. Craig Eisentrout, a member of TriHealth’s board. 

Those words surprised Collins – as did being named a Health Care Hero.

“It was by mistake,” he said of how he became a doctor. How Collins even decided to attend UC seems far-fetched.

His father had said Collins could attend any college as long as it wasn’t farther than a 24-hour train ride from home. Cincinnati was a full day’s travel by rail, so Collins applied to UC.

Joe Kowalewski was dean of the UC College of Pharmacy. While Collins had good grades and test scores, Kowalewski didn’t admit anyone without an interview. Collins couldn’t afford to travel to Cincinnati to meet.

Kowalewski planned to be in New York, so he suggested meeting during a stopover at what is now Reagan National Airport in Washington. “Over lunch, he interviewed me.” Collins said. “And then he said, ‘I’ll see you in September.’ When he went out of his way to do that, I said, ‘That’s the place I have to go.’ ”

His father had recommended going into the family business. Both his dad, the Rev. Joseph Collins, and grandfather, the Rev. Samuel Collins, were influential in his upbringing. 

“I come from a long line of ministers, but that was not my calling,” Collins said. “My ministry is medicine.”

Click here to read more about Dr. Robert Collins

To know Dr. Collins is to love him. He is a wonderful human being. I miss him terribly.
Posted by: Lisa Holbrook on February 20, 2025
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I first met Dr. Collins at the West End Health Center. He was hired to provide care for the West End residents. To my surprise, when we first started talking, I found that he is my Frat Brother. Not only my frat brother but my Double A Brother! He pledged Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., at UC. The chapter at UC is called Alpha Alpha Chapter or better known as Double A. From that time forward I admired and appreciated the work that this Alpha man has accomplished.
Posted by: Brian Moragne on February 19, 2025
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I have great respect for Dr. Collins who I had the privilege to work with in private practice before joining TriHealth. Great accomplishments by a great man. Peggi Emerson
Posted by: Peggi Emerson on February 19, 2025
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