A term with William (Bill) Bye was a privilege keenly sought and gratefully remembered by students, residents and physicians at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. His student groups were easily identified as they packed closely around their tutor, obscuring him from view as they strained to hear every syllable delivered in his quiet, unforgettable raspy monotone for which his deafness was responsible. A foolish answer to a straightforward question would earn a look of sadness which was itself sufficient stimulus to do better next time. A senior resident, who should have known better than to describe a new admission in terms of laboratory results rather than clinical features, would be invited quietly to 'tell me something about the patient... his appearance, his pulse, his blood pressure...'.
His manner was understated and almost self-effacing. He scorned pretence and showmanship, and was not impressed by those who practised them; he ignored the clubs and social activities seen by some as a sign by which professional success might be judged. His humanity and humility were total, and totally without affectation; he made no attempt to impress or even to charm those with whom he worked, but he was able to inspire something very close to hero worship among those whose generation had little time for heroes. He was reserved in his praise, which made it all the more important to have his approval for a job reasonably well done. He did not take matters lightly, but he had a keen sense of humour and a smile which could quickly transform his rather stern features. His humility did not conceal or sit awkwardly with an obvious pride in his clinical skill. He was a superlative clinician, prepared to consult freely at a time when consultations between physicians were not commonplace. And when his opinion was sought in a difficult case, he was not embarrassed to write simply: 'I do not know'.
Important biographical details of the type best known to his contemporaries, and tributes appropriately written by those with whom he served in World War II, were recorded in the elegant obituary notice written by his friend and colleague, Sir Kempson Maddox, and in the supplementary comments of Brigadier FJ Galleghan and the publication of a letter written to Dr Bye by British colleagues with whom he was associated (Medical Journal of Australia, 25 November, 1967). These document his academic excellence, climaxed by graduation from the University of Sydney in 1923, with first-class honours and the University Medal; a long career devoted to the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital as resident medical officer, sole medical registrar, medical superintendent, honorary physician and consultant; foundation Fellowship of The Royal Australasian College of Physicians (RACP); and the interruption of his clinical career by distinguished service with the Second Australian Imperial Force. He married Dr Dora MacMahon early in 1941, before going to Malaya with the general hospital of the Eighth Division. He spent most of the War as a prisoner in Changi; the citation for his Officer of the Order of the British Empire refers to his courage, skill and patience; while Brigadier Galleghan describes the spontaneous tribute from soldiers who lined the deck of the hospital ship in which they returned to Australia, offering three cheers for 'the man who brought us back'.
After the War Dr Bye resumed his career as an honorary physician at the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, retiring from the active staff in 1961, when he was appointed a consultant. He died in 1967, after a long illness, survived by his widow, Dr Dora Bye, and by his children Bill, Peter and Ann, all three now Fellows of the RACP.
It is appropriate that the definitive tribute to such a fine teacher should come from one of his former students, writing anonymously in the Year Book of 1953, and quoted in turn by Sir Kempson Maddox: 'And we want to thank Billy Bye ... for teaching us humanity and humility and for reviving in our minds buried dreams which we had when we first chose to follow the medical profession'.