The Courier
Volume 28, No. 4 (2004)
Bethel
Doctors,
1900-1950
by Margaret Joy Tibbetts
Dr.
Raymond R. Tibbetts (1875-1958)
[Editor’s Note: A version of this essay was presented as a lecture
sponsored by the Bethel Historical Society on 7 November 1991 held in
the Dr. Moses Mason House exhibit hall. The author has revised, added
to and updated her remarks for this issue.]
In this essay, I deliberately limited the time period to those years
which I know well. My father, Raymond R. Tibbetts, M.D.
(1875-1958),
practiced medicine in Bethel from 1905 to 1957. My mother, Pearl
Ashby
Tibbetts (1885-1982), was a registered nurse. I was born in 1919
and I
have many recollections of what life in a busy doctor’s house was
like.
Obviously, my memories are not all inclusive, but eyewitness accounts
are often very useful to future historians even if inadequate. My
memories also, of course, tend to feature one doctor—Dr.
Tibbetts.
Since he practiced here for over fifty years, his experiences were very
typical; perhaps in some cases—accidents, for example—his experiences
were broader than for the other doctors, since Dr. Tibbetts’ office was
on upper Main Street beside the drug store and emergency cases were
often brought to the easiest office to locate.
The early 1900s were a period of rapid change in American life; much of
the change came in the form of great inventions. These inventions
were
eventually to transform the life of the average American. Among
the
earliest of these transformations were the telephone, which came to
Bethel in 1895, and the automobile that arrived here seven years later
in 1902.
The most popular and the busiest of Bethel doctors at that time was Dr.
John A. Twaddle (1849-1918). There were other doctors. Dr.
Tibbetts
bought his practice from Dr. John Sturtevant in 1907. Dr.
Twaddle, a
native of Weld, had come to Bethel in 1877 and enjoyed a very large
practice. In country towns, doctors were usually prominent
citizens, and
Dr. Twaddle was accepted as an almost indispensable part of Bethel
life. The Twaddles—old Doctor Twaddle and his two sons, Dr. Widd
and
Dr. Gard Twaddle—all had fine personalities. They were noted for
their
friendliness, humor, kindness and competence.
Dr. Twaddle’s practice covered a large area: Bethel Hill, West, East,
North and South Bethel, Greenwood, Mason, Albany, Newry, sometimes
Upton, and, after the death of Dr. John Willard, Woodstock. In
time,
other doctors including Dr. Twaddle’s son, Dr. Widd, and Dr. Tibbetts
also had patients in these areas.
When Dr. Twaddle began his practice, he used a horse and buggy to
cover his territory. This conveyance was delightful at some
seasons of
the year, but had obvious limitations when a doctor was needed in a
hurry—for example in the case of a serious accident. Accidents
were
common in the country. In time, the telephone and the automobile
would
become essential for the physicians, but in the early 1900s one could
not be sure of finding a telephone in every home, and in the winter,
particularly, one could not assume that the automobile would reach the
patient through drifts of snow, and not every patient owned an
automobile. I can remember when, in the winter, my father kept
horses
in our barn up until 1927. When I was five years old (1924), I
saw how
difficult it could be for country people. One winter day we were
all in
the kitchen when a big old horse with sleigh came thundering into the
dooryard. The horse was covered with ropes of sweat. My
mother jumped
up and rushed to send my brother out to help the young boys in the
sleigh walk the horse to cool down. “Do not let that horse drink
water,” she called to the boys and rushed to help the doctor (my
father) into a surgical gown. When they brought the injured child
into the
house the blood dripped through the old quilt so much that the hall
floor was slippery. Later we were told that the child in the
quilt had been playing with
others on the roof of a small farm building. The children jumping
around did not see a weather vane under the snow, and the weather
vane’s very sharp edge had cut the child severely. There was much
stitching for the doctor to do. What impressed me most at the
time was the worn out old horse. Now I
think of how agonizing for the parents that trip must have been: a
bleeding, crying child and other children frightened and shivering
under the edges of an old quilt. Also I now think of how many
things
could go wrong in dealing with wounds of that magnitude
Both local patients
and doctors were to benefit in 1924 when the campaign to build the
Rumford Hospital was launched. The initiative for the Hospital
came
from a prominent Rumford surgeon, Dr. Eugene McCarty, who was moved to
begin the project by his experiences in having to take patients out of
town to find a hospital. For the doctors, the Rumford Hospital
meant a
significant rise in the level of possible care.
After old Dr. Twaddle died in 1918, he was succeeded in his practice by
his older son, Dr. Widd Twaddle (1884-1963). The Bethel doctors
all got
along well with each other. They practiced independently and
seldom
consulted on a case, but they “talked shop” a good deal at the
drugstore with the druggist. William Bosserman (1861-1948) was
the
owner of the drugstore; his pharmacist, Alton Carroll (1896-1973), was
considered exceptionally good at his job.
Along with Dr. Tibbetts and Dr. Twaddle, the third doctor in the 1920s
and early 1930s was Dr. Isaac W. Wight, who died in 1931. He was
much
liked, a tall slender, courteous man. He was succeeded by his
nephew,
Dr. Harry Wilson, young, energetic, and very good looking. During
World
War II, Dr. Wilson left to go into military service. At the war’s
end,
he left Bethel permanently. Dr. Homer Lawrence came to Bethel in
1942.
He was succeeded by Dr. Willard Boynton in 1945. For two years
Dr. John
A. Matheson was associated with Dr. Boynton. They also served as
Gould
Academy physicians as did Dr. Tibbetts in an earlier era.
All the doctors were busy; none was a specialist. At that time,
country
doctors were expected to be able to take care of all types of cases, at
least initially. Relations between doctors and patients were very
informal. Seldom did patients make appointments. Usually
they just came
to the office when convenient or telephoned. Dr. Tibbetts carried
most
of his files and appointment schedules in his head. Fortunately,
he had
an excellent memory. His medical files consisted of the daily
record of
patients seen with the name of the patient, the type of the illness or
affliction—one or two words—and then two or three words followed by a
line to indicate whether or not the patient had paid.
Bethel had very few arrangements for helping or caring for poor people
before the New Deal of President Franklin Roosevelt came into
being.
The informality of the time and the doctors’ relations with their
patients somewhat compensated for the relative indifference of town
officials.
My mother told me of one instance of my father stopping for gas at
Frank Robertson’s filling station on Railroad Street (now the Big
Apple). Frank said that a little girl from a house across the
tracks
had left a message with Frank to ask Dr. Tibbetts to come by and look
at her brother who had a “bad bellyache.” The doctor said to tell
her
he would come by after supper. When he went down after supper, my
mother went with him. She said below the tracks it was pitch
black,
impossible to see except with car lights. The doctor said the absence
of street lights was due to the stinginess of the town officials who
did not believe in spending taxpayer’s money on poor people.
When they entered one of the small houses below the tracks, the parents
had no idea the doctor was coming but welcomed him warmly. To go
upstairs, the doctor went on a ladder, examined the little boy
carefully (he told my mother he was afraid the appendix might
rupture).
After pushing and probing, etc., the doctor decided the little boy was
all right but that his sister should keep a watch for danger signals.
Dr.
Isaac H. Wight. He died 28 October 1931, age 56. He was
found dead
in his car near Riverside Cemetery. A member of the Bethel Odd Fellows and the local Masonic lodge,
he was also a trustee of Gould
Academy and president of the Bethel Savings Bank.
Over four hundred attended his
funeral at the Bethel Congregational Church. He began his practice in Bethel
in 1902 shortly after his graduation from the University of Vermont Medical School.
The doctor’s fees at that time were laughable by today’s standards,
even allowing for changes in the value of money. A patient’s
visit to
Dr. Tibbetts in 1930 cost $1; later in the 1930s it increased to
$2. A
visit to the patient’s home in the country was $5. An
enterprising
young local man returned to Bethel from Massachusetts for his wife to
have their baby when he discovered that for delivery and postnatal care
Dr. Tibbetts charged $25.
Fortunately for the older doctors it was not until after World War II
that medical insurance was used frequently by patients because, prior
to that time, they were frustrated with the process and skeptical of
even the idea. Neither my mother nor my father ever came to
accept the
concept of medical insurance easily. My father thought it a
nuisance and my mother believed it promoted carelessness.
My mother often said that my father could not have practiced medicine
successfully without the Bethel telephone operators and Alton
Carroll.
Compared to today’s medical standards of careful files, medical
histories, complex equipment and medications, the methods and routines
of country doctors of the pre-war period were backward. The
medical
drug salesman who came regularly in the 1920s and 1930s began to be
replaced by more sophisticated methods of selling new drugs.
Perhaps
one of the most useful developments was the cooperation among doctors
allowing them to have joint practices and time off at regular intervals.
The type of practice to which my mother referred and the one in which
she participated so fully was often exciting and challenging. The
telephone operators were regular players in “hunting down” or locating
the doctor as he made his rounds in order to save time, mileage and
money. Relatively often my father would be wanted on one side of
the
Androscoggin and at the same time he was speeding along the back roads
to reach the other side. The need to intercept him was a “game”
the
operators played with great skill. A Bethel operator—the best at
that time were Mona Martyn and Alice
Smith—would telephone operators and acquaintances on the appropriate
side, outline the problem and the time limits. The operators
would then
find someone willing to hail the doctor as he came by at the right
time. Once the message was delivered, the doctor would rush off
as
needed. No one ever refused or hesitated about helping.
Dr.
Widd B. Twaddle (extreme right) poses with members of his wife’s family
on Metallak Island, Umbagog Lake, about 1915. Also in the photograph are, standing (left to
right):
Aldana (1855-1928) and Mary
King Brooks (1865-1934), Gerry Brooks (1878-1966), D. Grover Brooks (1892-1955), Harry Brooks
(1883-1943), Agnes Brooks
Twaddle (1885-1971).
Seated (left to right): Mildred Mason Brooks (1882-1934), Ethel Sanborn Brook
(1888-1945).
Photo courtesy of Donald and
Eleanor Brooks.
Alton Carroll’s friendship and assistance were most valuable to my
mother. He could read my father’s handwriting, assist my mother
when
patients arrived at the office during the doctor’s absence to ask for
medications, and often work with my mother on numerous accidents by
bandaging victims while waiting for the doctor to return.
When the war ended in 1945, my father was seventy and beginning to talk
of retiring, although, except for refusing to make night calls, he did
not change his daily routines much. The system of organizing
doctor’s
offices changed considerably, however, with joint practices, more
modern equipment, and the eventual development of extensive health
insurance organizations, both private and government operated.
These
new developments, which seemed to save some of the doctor’s time, are
now common. The days of chasing the doctor down within a sizable
area
are no longer necessary. Bethel went through a period of
reorganization, which eventually in the 1970s and 1980s resulted in the
formation of the Bethel Health Center, which is outside the limits of
this presentation, but remains a story that needs to be told.
My brother, sister and I all realized even as children that my father
thoroughly enjoyed practicing medicine and reveled in being a country
doctor. He liked the variety and the excitement; he enjoyed the
admiration of the townspeople and the sense of being useful. He
was
amply repaid for his hard work and late hours by the loyalty of his
patients and their respect for his courage and skill. He was not
an
easygoing or cheerful, joking man. Often he was brusque and
silent. In
his defense, he did not have much chance to talk when my mother, sister
and I were all at home. In all the years I knew him, he only once
told
a funny story. He was, however, a devastating mimic, who could do
a
priceless interpretation of the Headmaster of Gould Academy or some of
the self-important guests at the Bethel Inn with whom he played
golf.
Medicine was his major interest, and he enjoyed practicing in a town
surrounded by woods and mountains. He loved making his house
calls to
watch the changing seasons, the progress of each farmer’s crops, or the
occasional deer or partridge in an orchard eating buds.
My mother told me once that she and my father often thought how
fortunate they had been when as strangers fate brought them to Bethel
to live in a beautiful town, in pleasant surroundings with so many good
people living there. Bethel has had conscientious and able
doctors who
have helped to make this a place in which we are all happy to
live. May
all future doctors be as happy here as have been the Bethel doctors of
its past.
