Abstract

Cancer researcher and university Vice-Chancellor. Born in Derry, UK, on Sept 14, 1958, he died of a cardiac arrest in Buncrana, Donegal, Ireland, on June 4, 2017, aged 58 years. It was in 1987 that Patrick Johnston, an emerging talent in oncology, left his job in Dublin, Ireland, for one at the US National Cancer Institute (NCI) in Bethesda, MD. It began to appear that Ireland's loss was to be the USA's gain—permanently. “He always wanted to be the best”, says Mark Lawler, Professor of Translational Cancer Genomics in the Centre for Cancer Research and Cell Biology (CCRCB) at Queen's University Belfast. “He'd realised that to really achieve he needed to be in a more research active environment.” Johnston himself recalled in an interview 3 years ago that he was eager to take part in the coming bench-to-bedside era of oncology. As a clinician scientist he began to investigate cancer drug resistance, and developed biomarkers to identify patients who had little to gain from drug treatment. “His field was always colorectal cancer”, says Professor Paul Workman, President of the Institute of Cancer Research in London and a friend of 30 years. “When he started it was in the early days of biomarkers…He optimised the use of fluorouracil by identifying the level of the drug's target, thymidylate synthase, to predict the outcome [of the treatment]. So he was in at the beginning of what we now call stratified medicine.” Having become a senior investigator at NCI, it really did seem Johnston was gone for good. “He was offered tenure at NCI, so he could have stayed”, says Workman. “But in 1996 he was invited to return to Ireland to apply the learning he'd acquired”. Johnston accepted, becoming Professor and Head of the Department of Oncology at Queen's University Belfast. Johnston's thoughts of becoming a doctor had first dawned when, as a 14-year-old, his interest in science and his familiarity with relatives in nursing had fostered a decision to read medicine. He graduated from University College Dublin in 1982 and stayed on to work in the city's hospitals. “In Ireland, cancer care was quite underdeveloped”, he later recalled. “Seeing the challenges and suffering that cancer patients had to undergo motivated me to enter the field.” His return from the USA in no way marked the end of his research career; indeed his latest research programme grant was renewed shortly before his death. Scientific work did, however, become only one of his broader preoccupations. “At that time Northern Ireland had the worst [cancer] outcomes in the UK”, says Lawler. “He realised that the comprehensive cancer centre model which he'd seen in the United States could work on the island of Ireland.” Drawing on his contacts in the USA, Johnston was instrumental in forging a partnership between Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, and the NCI. This consortium created translational cancer programmes—a particular enthusiasm of Johnston's—boosted the capacity of the cancer centres involved, and offered Irish citizens north and south more opportunities to take part in clinical trials. It was an unusual but fruitful arrangement in which Johnston's personality played no small part. “Everything Paddy did was for the benefit of patients”, says Lawler. This led Johnston, Lawler, and others to create what they called the European Cancer Patients' Bill of Rights. It's made a difference, Lawler believes. “People have taken the Bill of Rights, or particular aspects of it, and then used it to drive things locally.” At Queen's University Belfast Johnston developed a clinical cancer centre along with a new research enterprise, the CCRCB. In 2007, he was appointed Dean of the School of Medicine, Dentistry and Biomedical Sciences and, 7 years later, President and Vice-Chancellor of the whole university. His aim was to make a more global enterprise out of what had been a sleeping giant that wasn't delivering its potential, according to Lawler. “He wanted the best for Queen's University and felt he could deliver that vision.” “Paddy had a talent for getting things done”, says Workman. “He picked up on the notion that, in a divided community, cancer was something that affected everyone regardless of race or creed. It was something that everyone could unite around.” Lawler describes Johnston as an inspirational person, but with an ability to listen. “Everybody had a voice at the table…He also had an ability to attract talent, and then give it its head. He didn't micromanage. He was very much big picture.” Johnston leaves a wife, Iseult, and four sons.

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