In Memoriam: Peter Barton Hutt
I am sad to report the passing of Peter Barton Hutt at 91. Peter was the “dean” of the food and drug law bar, a longtime partner at Covington, arguably FDA’s most important chief counsel in the modern era (serving in that role from 1971-1975), and the intellectual engine behind the field’s most used casebook…
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I am sad to report the passing of Peter Barton Hutt at 91. Peter was the “dean” of the food and drug law bar, a longtime partner at Covington, arguably FDA’s most important chief counsel in the modern era (serving in that role from 1971-1975), and the intellectual engine behind the field’s most used casebook (which has always been more like a treatise). He was also the go-to person in just about any industry touched by FDA — whether it was high-tech reproductive technologies, biologics, or psychedelics, I was never surprised to find out Peter was advising the most innovative companies. Most importantly to me personally, he was the leading teacher of the subject, having taught an FDA law course at Harvard Law School for more than a quarter century.
Others will write about Peter’s work on nutrition labels, the Hatch-Waxman Act, the FDA Modernization Act of 1997, and many more signature developments in the field, but I want to speak about Peter as a mentor and teacher. I was lucky enough to take his course in January of 2002 and to count on him as a lifelong mentor and friend, as did so many others. Many teachers at top schools know their subjects in and out, but none loved his subject more than Peter. He brought that love and joy to every moment of his class; I can picture him smiling ear to ear talking about just how many rat hairs one is allowed to have in a chocolate bar under the existing regulations!
Peter was a pioneer at innovative teaching. He built in to almost every session of his course organized debates led by students on the hot topics. He spent multiple class days having students role play key roles in a pharmaceutical company trying to get a drug to market in an involved simulation. He was devoted to his students — when he visited us in our intensive January term at Harvard he would be available for hours on end on top of lunch and dinner with students every day.
And his students loved him. Many were inspired to follow in his footsteps and practice in the field. Indeed, if one looks at those of us who teach in the area, most of us were once students of Peter (at Harvard, or in practice), as have been a substantial slice of the FDA’s chief counsel’s office and the ranks of the private bar. Peter’s teaching of us did not end when we turned in our final papers — the papers he supervised have become a sort of legendary repository of knowledge on everything FDA related historically and present day. Instead, he served as a teacher and mentor to myself and countless others throughout our life. I distinctly remember seeking his advice on whether I should become the faculty director for the Petrie-Flom Center, as I had asked his advice on so many things since then.
When I last had the pleasure of seeing Peter and his wife over dinner in January in Cambridge he was ever the same. He walked in with the same heavy lined brown winter jacket and hat I had seen him wear for more than 20 years. Ever the proud son of Buffalo, he was undaunted by the snow and he walked like a tall spruce, unbowed by age. We had our usual catch-up about the latest iteration of the course, the students, hot topics in the field, etc. When I asked him about whether he had given any thought to when he might fully retire, he looked quizzically at me as though I had asked when his next trip to the moon might be. Peter never wanted to be anywhere than in front of students sharing what he loved.
I am reminded of some lines from one of Leonard Cohen’s poems:
There are some men
who should have mountains
to bear their names to time.
Grave-markers are not high enough
or green,
and sons go far away
to lose the fist
their father’s hand will always seem
