Dr. John Ellis Edwards, Jr. ("Jack") 1942 – 2026

Dr. John Ellis Edwards, Jr. — who preferred to be called "Jack" — died peacefully at home in Rancho Palos Verdes on May 19, 2026, surrounded by his family and their love. He was 83 years old, and he spent all of those years living with warmth, humor, a passion for lifelong learning, a drive to push himself further, and an unending generosity for the people he taught, mentored, and inspired. He leaves behind a legacy of family, friends, colleagues, and mentees whose lives were dramatically shaped by his wit, his wisdom, and his deep and genuine belief in them.

Jack was born in San Diego to Mildred Elaine and John Ellis Edwards, Sr., and grew up as the son of a U.S. Navy Rear Admiral. He traveled widely, learning to adapt to different circumstances and cultures. He played high school football during his formative four years in Alexandria, VA, and continued to play at Pomona College in California. He credited those football years with teaching him to value a team-first philosophy, and he carried that instinct — to build a team, trust people, and credit them — into his entire life. Jack understood that his most important work was to nurture relationships above all else.

His most important relationship began in the fall of 1962. At the start of the Pomona College academic year, Carol arrived for the "measuring in" ceremony on her first day. Jack, tape measure in hand, was told by a friend, "This one's yours," and gently nudged toward her. That moment — meeting the woman who would become the cornerstone of his life — was captured on film and featured in the local paper. A foreshadowing, perhaps, of how naturally Jack noticed the small details that make relationships last. A few weeks later he found her again, and that first chance encounter became a love story lasting more than six decades.

With Carol's steadfast partnership, Jack built a career that was nothing short of extraordinary. After completing his fellowship, he served as a Naval physician at Camp Pendleton during the Vietnam War. He then devoted decades to Harbor-UCLA Medical Center — as teacher, researcher, educator, and ultimately Chief of the Division of Infectious Disease — shaping the careers of countless physicians and scientists along the way.

The honors he earned were remarkable: the Hattfield Award for Excellence in Surgery at UC Irvine Medical School (the one, his family will tell you, he was proud of even into his late career), the Outstanding Medical Intern Award at Harbor-UCLA, the Academic Investigator Award from the NIH, and the Distinguished Faculty Teaching Award at Harbor-UCLA. Later in his career he was named a Distinguished Professor of Medicine at UCLA (2013) and recognized as a Lundquist Institute Legend by LA BioMed (2014). He published more than 150 peer-reviewed articles and over 60 book chapters in clinical mycology, served on countless editorial boards and national committees, and was honored by the mycology community with the Benham Award for outstanding contributions in 2017 and the Lucille Georg Lifetime Achievement Award from ISHAM in 2018.

But accolades were never the point. Jack measured his work by the lives it touched. One publication he spoke about often to his family wasn't one with his name at the top — it was a 1982 case study in which he is listed as fourth author. His team had worked collaboratively to save a young girl who had contracted primary amoebic meningoencephalitis, a condition that, at the time, was 100% fatal. They were advised it was hopeless, but they tried an experimental protocol anyway — and she survived into adulthood. Jack used that story to remind his children: "It's not over until it's over" — and to never give up when someone's life depended on you.

That philosophy shaped everything he did. He taught interns, residents, and fellows, mentored medical students, and helped young lab interns from diverse backgrounds find their path to medical school. He co-founded and directed an intensive course on molecular mycology at Woods Hole, Massachusetts — investing in the next generation of scientists the way great teachers do, with patience, rigor, and genuine care. He got to know his students and mentees as whole people. With Carol's help, he hosted dinners and gatherings that built real friendships, not just professional connections. Many of those relationships lasted the rest of his life — and his mentees will tell you that his interest in them never felt like obligation. It felt like love. In his later career, he focused on laying the groundwork for a vaccine against invasive candidiasis — work that may one day save lives he'll never know about.

Outside the clinic and the lab, Jack was just as fully alive. He ran 13 marathons. He waterskied into his 70s. He windsurfed. He loved boating, and he and Carol explored the world together — the Galápagos, Antarctica, Alaska, the Panama Canal — with the same curiosity he brought to everything. He often returned with a book or movie recommendation that his children were told they needed to experience immediately. He loved having roots in Palos Verdes; he loved leaving them behind for a while, too.

But what his family will remember most can't be put on a curriculum vitae. Jack believed the best in people — and had a way of drawing that best out of them. He read voraciously and loved to share what he learned. He was genuinely funny, with a wit that arrived when you least expected it and landed every time. His love showed up in grand gestures and wonderfully small ones: in regular “Sunday Dinners” with the family, in ruthless hide-and-seek games with his grandchildren, in family traditions that will outlast him by generations, and in late-night text reminders on "Rabbit Eve," making sure his family had good luck waiting for them the next morning. He was the kind of person who made every moment feel a little more worthwhile, and he will be deeply missed.

Jack is survived by his wife, Carol Lynn Todt Edwards; his daughters Holly Elizabeth Stassi (spouse Bob Stassi) and Kristin Elaine Edwards (spouse Bill Gustafson); and his grandchildren Sean Stassi, Malea Stassi, Corinna Gustafson, and Elaina Gustafson.

A Celebration of Life will be held on August 10, 2026, 3pm at The Lundquist Institute, Torrance. Plans are in place to livestream for those unable to travel.

Please consider sending brief stories and favorite photos for inclusion in his services or memory book to the family (c/o Kristin) at jackedwardsmemories@gmail.com.

Condolence cards may be sent to

Carol Edwards

5801 Crestridge, #D202

Rancho Palos Verdes, CA 90275

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in his memory to:

Pomona College https://www.pomona.edu/support-pomona or

Marine Biological Institute https://www.mbl.edu/give