Mourners Recall Slain Doctor As a Caring 'Fixer of Others'

The family, friends and colleagues of Wayne S. Fenton, a psychiatrist who was killed Sunday in his North Bethesda office, honored him yesterday as a doctor committed to the care of the most troubled patients.

No one at the funeral could forget the tragedy of Fenton's demise at the age of 53. Montgomery County police say he was beaten to death by Vitali A. Davydov, a 19-year-old from North Potomac whom Fenton was treating for schizophrenia. Davydov's attorney has said that his client is severely mentally ill.

"This time, the disease took two lives," said Thomas H. McGlashan, a psychiatry professor at Yale University and a former colleague of Fenton's who addressed about 800 people gathered at Har Shalom synagogue in Potomac.

Even so, Rabbi H. David Rose, at the family's request, sought to strike a "joyous tone" in celebration of "a modest man, a hopeful man, a fixer of others." Fenton was an associate director at the National Institute of Mental Health who maintained a private practice on weekends and weekday evenings. He had been the director of the now-closed Chestnut Lodge Hospital in Rockville.

Har Shalom's main sanctuary, a sunlit space of pale-gold limestone and honey-colored wood, was filled beyond capacity for a simple ceremony that consisted almost entirely of Rose and others speaking about Fenton.

Fenton's wife, Nancy, celebrated her husband's casual, friendly manner and his commitment to their four children, with whom he maintained almost daily contact, she said, whether they were at home or away at school.

McGlashan lauded Fenton's work as a researcher, administrator and clinician and said he had tried to persuade him to leave Montgomery and go to work at Yale. Fenton resisted the entreaties, McGlashan said, and finally told him why: Hank Dietle's. The tavern is a Montgomery landmark that McGlashan described as a "biker bar on Rockville Pike."

"You may have been born in Albany," McGlashan recalled telling Fenton, "but you are a Montgomery County redneck."

Robert Heinssen, an NIMH researcher, described seeing Fenton and a patient carry a roll of carpet out of Fenton's office at Chestnut Lodge. Fenton later told Heinssen that the patient, who had recently been discharged from the hospital, told Fenton he found the carpet in his new apartment disturbing. Fenton's response was to help him replace it.

"Here was a man," Heinssen said of Fenton, "who was willing to go to the place where a person needed help."

The speakers celebrated Fenton's devotion to the understanding and treatment of schizophrenia and to the fun he had in life, whether setting off firecrackers with his son, playing guitar or appreciating independent movies at the Sundance Film Festival.

Tom Bernard, a longtime friend, said Fenton was an unparalleled gate-crasher who seemed to prefer sneaking into movie openings over buying tickets. If anyone challenged his seat, Bernard said, Fenton "acted like he was born there."

The stories of a gentle, whimsical Fenton seemed to lift the somber mood in the sanctuary. Then Joseph Fenton, Wayne's father, stood at the lectern. He said only a few words, addressed to the coffin and the family members gathered in pews nearby.

"Mom and I love you," he said. "We're proud of you. Always have been, always will. Take care, Wayne." Without another word, he returned to his seat. Some in the audience reached for tissues.

After the pallbearers had carried out the coffin and Rose had ended the ceremony, mourners gathered in small groups around the sanctuary. Some wiped their eyes and hugged their loved ones. Others began to greet their friends, to talk, even to smile.