After 50 Years of Dentistry, a Local Gem Retires

After more than five decades of selfless service to his community, my father, Dr. Peter H. Klein, is retiring from his career in dentistry. It's hard to summarize a life so full of care, compassion, and unassuming excellence, but if you know my father, you know he never does anything halfway - and his career has been no exception.

Before eventually finding his path to medicine, my dad dreamed of architecture, drawn to the art of design and structure. But influenced by the example of his own father, my Papa Joe, a dental technician, he pivoted to a career in dentistry. He studied at Queens College in New York and later graduated from Howard University’s College of Dentistry in 1972. At just 23 years old, he passed an anesthesiology exam in Texas and became the youngest certified dental anesthesiologist in the country. He even went on to publish an article on hypnosis as a form of dental anesthesia - a hint at his lifelong creativity and openness to learning.

His first practice was on the third floor of a building in Port Jefferson, New York, above a bank that hadn’t even opened yet. When it finally did, the bank employees became his patients, and his practice grew almost overnight. Eventually, he moved his practice down the road to a building in Coram, where many of my childhood memories live. Later, he became a founding partner in the then well-known “Red Line Building” - a space he helped design and develop alongside a fellow doctor and two attorneys to house their practices.

But my father’s work has never just been about teeth. It has always been about people.

He accepted all forms of payment - cash, credit card, dim sum, sushi, even backyard sheds. Yes, one time, our family received a shed in exchange for dental work. My dad didn’t make these trades because he loved Chinese food (though he does). He did it because he believed in helping people, no matter their situation. I vividly remember a family going through financial hardship because the mother had cancer. Instead of charging them, he provided excellent treatment at no charge, as he often did for patients in need. That was my father. Always generous, always compassionate, always quietly doing the right thing.

As a little kid, I remember the way he practiced dentistry - with kindness and a touch of whimsy. He called the saliva ejector “Mr. Thirsty.” He kept a giant treasure chest and oversized stuffed animals in the waiting room. He jiggled patients’ cheeks before injecting novocaine, to trick the brain into not feeling the sting. Even behind his mask, his hazel eyes were soft and kind. I remember seeing the crow’s feet that framed his smile, even when you couldn’t see his mouth. He made children laugh, adults feel safe, and treated every patient with dignity.

He gave free care to countless patients when times were tough. He personally called each patient after procedures to check on them. And on Sunday mornings, he would rush out the door to open the office for someone in pain, because he didn’t believe anyone should wait another day if they were suffering.

He also gave back as a teacher, spending over 30 years on staff at Mather Hospital, mentoring the next generation of dental professionals. He introduced dental hygiene to kindergarteners and brought with him a giant walrus tusk to capture their attention. He was a living example of what it means to serve with heart.

And somehow, amidst it all, he still managed to be the MVP catcher on the Mather Hospital softball team and proudly holds the unofficial record for “Most Crab Cakes Sent Back in a Career.” And while he’s left a trail of trembling waiters in his wake - usually the ones brave enough to serve him off-colored broccoli - he was always the gentlest dentist you could hope for.

My dad’s practice treated multiple generations of families. Kids who sat in his chair decades ago now bring their own children to see him. His office became more than a dental clinic - it became a place of trust, laughter, and community.

So as he steps away from the chair and turns off the surgical light for the last time, we celebrate not just the end of a long career - but the legacy of a man who quietly changed lives with his hands, his heart, and his unwavering belief that kindness matters.

Dr. Peter H. Klein, you are loved, respected, and deeply appreciated. Enjoy your well-earned retirement - you’ve already given us more than enough to smile about.

With love and admiration,

Your Family. and Patients.