My uncle Edward was born in rural
Virginia during the civil war. While his four brothers elected to study law,
he chose medicine. All five brothers found conditions in Virginia so depressed
after the war that they had no choice but to go else where. Edward went to be
with one of his lawyer brothers who had settled in New Orleans. His father strongly
disapproved, since at that time New Orleans was often decimated by yellow fever.
If Edward remained in New Orleans, there would be no honorable way for him to
leave after his patients were threatened or infected. He decided that St Louis
would be a suitable place to start his practice. Somewhat later my father, the
youngest of the lawyer brothers, joined him there.
Edward chose to specialize in pediatrics-the first physician west of the Mississippi
to do so. As his practice grew, and he became ever more successful he founded
Bethesda, a very large charity hospital, supported by himself and many of his
wealthier patients. The hospital was dedicated to caring for delinquent girls
during their pregnancy and delivery, and for their children until they were
ready for adoption. A small portion of the children were not adoptable owing
to mental or physical disabilities. For them a home was provided out in St Louis
County where they might live out the rest of their lives. Considerable money
had to be budgeted for the maintenance of this home.
He bought one of the first successful automobiles to make his rounds. The car
so impressed my brother George, then all of age ten, that he decided to be a
doctor and have such a car. Later Edward bought two model T Fords. He liked
to invent things to improve them-one wheel painted red on each of the cars so
that he could find them easily among all the other model T's, a box designed
to scatter sand in front of the rear wheels on rain slickened streets. He was
a bachelor and his other personal expenditures were extremely modest. By 1920
he had an income of $75,000, but most of that went to Bethesda and for other
good works. As a latter day Robin Hood, he believed that the rich should support
the poor, and the bills he sent his wealthier patients reflected this view.
His practice demanded every bit of energy he had. Mothers with sick children
vied for every spare moment. When he could push himself no further, our house
was a safe retreat. There he could find a bed and perhaps twenty minutes of
rest. Other of his friends provided other safe retreats. One never ending problem
was calls from country doctors imploring him to visit their patients in nearby
cities. His charge for a day, or more frequently a night, was $500. This was
reasonable since he lost a day's practice in St Louis. On one occasion he was
called out to Saint Charles and spent the night working with a very sick child.
The child had a relapse a day later and he went out to spend another night.
When his secretary asked if she should send a bill for $1000 he suggested that
$750 might be fairer.
Within a day there was a messenger at his office with $1000 of government bonds,
accompanied by a letter from the child's parents saying how delighted they were
to pay this bill, and if they could ever be of service he had only to ask. The
messenger had refused to turn the package over to his secretary until Edward
had signed for it. This was not the first time the secretary had added on some
extra for herself. What was unique was that no other parents had ever questioned
a bill. Now that Blue Cross and others are in the loop, patients can be cavalier
about bills, since they are paying, at most, only a small portion. Before, and
for some time after the second world war, doctors could expect to have their
bills questioned. They would have been amazed to learn that no parent had ever
questioned a bill from Dr Saunders. They simply paid the bill and considered
it a privilege.
Edward felt it was his duty to provide lodging at his home, and tuition and
fees for two nephews to attend medical schools in Saint Louis. One chose the
Washington University Medical School, and went on to become the chief of surgery
at Columbia University's Hospital. He married a very influential wife and enjoyed
the good life. The second nephew Ed Hickson, chose St Louis University's Medical
School. During one of the years he lived at Edward's house, he and some pals
at the medical school planned a weekend party at a cottage on the Merimac River.
They had invited a number of pliant nurses, and with prohibition in force, had
liberated some hospital grain alcohol, and added juniper berries and water.
One of the pals looked at Ed and and remarked that what they really needed was
some sort of transportation. "Well." said Ed, "I am sure I can borrow one of
the model T's. If Dr Saunders can be seen in those cars, I guess I can be seen
in one."
After Ed graduated and did a year as an intern, he decided that he was cut out
to be a country doctor and chose Milan, Missouri. Two farmers nearby got into
an argument and one shot the other in a leg. By the time the wounded man got
to a hospital gangrene had set in , and Ed decided he'd best amputate the leg.
The man's Holy Roller parishioners convinced the patient that it would be better
to pray to the Lord, and ask the Almighty to save the leg. They held prayer
sessions at his hospital bed until he died. On his death the farmer who had
shot him faced a murder charge. Ed's conscience led him to testify in court
on the real reason for the man's death. After that his practice was in shambles.
He left Milan and started anew in Virginia.
At the Bethesda Hospital, Edward trained several younger doctors in pediatrics.
One was Wister White. One exceptionally hot night Dr White came to the hospital
to find a score of screaming babies. Ignoring their complaints, he directed
the elderly nurses on duty, to remove all the gowns on the babies, and they
quieted down. The next day the nurses had again dressed the babies in proper
attire. The following day and thereafter on hot days the babies wore only a
diaper. Edward had said something, White did not know what and the nurses had
seen reason. This was not the only time Edward had spoken in favor of baby comfort
over propriety. One of his patients had developed a rash, and he directed the
baby's mother to take him in an open carriage dressed only in a diaper. "But
Dr Saunders," she asked,"what will my neighbors think." Edward came quickly
to the point. "If they are offended by a naked baby let them stay indoors and
swelter for their folly."
As he aged Edward contracted cancer and was sent into Saint Lukes Hospital for
surgery. Some anonymous grateful patient had a RCA superhetrodyne radio delivered
to his room. It came in two great cabinets, the receiver itself with its twin
dials, one to tune to the desired radio frequency , the other of select the
appropriate frequency for the local oscillator. The second cabinet held the
speaker, and supported a rectangular coil of wire, pivoted on one end so that
it might be turned to pick up a maximum signal. I and many of Edward's visitors
were delighted with the gift, but I suspect he might have been less interested
in it.
When he left the hospital he no longer was able to drive and arranged for a
Yellow Cab to remain on call to take him to visit patients. This continued for
only a couple of years before he had to return to the hospital for more surgery.
The day after he was released, a new Dodge sedan and a chauffeur arrived at
his house. The chauffeur told him that he was being paid to drive him to his
house calls, but darned if he could remember where.
No story of Edward would be complete unless it mentions his devotion to his
religion. His Bible was written in Greek and he read it every night just before
he retired. Dr Burns was a nose and throat specialist and one day he was treating
my brother Ned for sinusitis. He cautioned Ned to not to attempt to blow his
nose, but to sniffle and spit. He insisted the advice came from the Bible as
Ned could verify from Edward. When Ned cornered his uncle he said."I am not
sure it is in my Bible, but I am sure it is in Doctor Burn's." He was philosophical
about his imminent death. The Bible had promised him three score and ten. And
the Lord had given him three additional years.
On his death there was a hanger in his closest with a note for his housekeeper.
'Lucy," it said, "don't look for this overcoat. I have given it away
- no man needs two."
Even long after Edward's death, none of the doctors who had known him, would
send my parents a bill for the services they had performed. Professional courtesy
between doctors was one thing, but my father was a successful lawyer, and felt
he was not entitled to it. The only recourse was to send Xmas presents. One
year both Ned and I had been sick a lot and Dr White was often at the house.
Mother had carefully noted the number of visits, but she really did not want
to send the Whites an expensive gift they did not want. One afternoon just before
Xmas she was playing bridge with Mrs White and friends at the White's. She (guardedly)
looked at the curtains and one thing and another. When she cautiously mentioned
something Mrs White said, " Oh Louise this old house is such a mess I have just
about given up trying to make it look attractive. About the only thing I need
is a new stove - mine hardly works." Xmas eve a new stove was delivered to the
Whites.