Volume 4, Number 6 - Winter 1971
The Pioneer Doctor In The Ozarks White River Country
Excerpts from the book by Amy Johnson Miller
In her little book, "The Pioneer Doctor in the Ozark White River Country," published in 1947, Amy Johnson Miller says:
"This story is true. The people are real. The details are authentic. The little sketches I have made are not offered as works of Art, but they illustrate more nearly the scenes of a half—century ago than do the beautiful photographs of today.
"I present to you my Father, John Cabell Breckenridge Johnson, The Pioneer Doctor in the Ozarks White River Country."
Mrs. Miller tells how her father came to the Ozarks, married, worked long hours, always going when needed or even when expected, always going to take his wife and children to a bigger place that they might have "advantages and an easier life", but always there appeared a need at Forsyth.
I love her story of the time Lem Chowder and Josh Watkins were going down the river in Lem’s new boat. They knew the good doctor Johnson needed a real rest, surely the middle of the river a fine place to attempt such. They invited the doctor to go along. His wife insisted that he go. Dr. Johnson thought it a few day’s trip. The boatsmen knew three days no time for relaxing. They chose the middle of the stream. The doctor began to mellow. They gave him sips of good liquor as they stopped on the banks for food, good companionship, and sleep. Though the doctor never drank at home, he soon learned that it helped him relax and give contenement. The days became weeks. Soon they were nearing New Orleans. The doctor a bit tispy, perhaps, recalled a card in his pocket; one given him by his brother a doctor in Springfield, one with on the back of it an address and date. On the way into shore the doctor fell into the muddy water.. He came up wanting to go to the "Convention"—a nearby boatman offered to take the doctor to the address. Amy Johnson Miller tells the story thus:
On the way, the young deck hand, Jack, stopped at a small cafe. There he insisted on trying to sober the doctor and by the time they left, his clothing was dry, but wrinkled.
At the door of the convention the doctor stopped to look down at his feet. The wet shoes were drying now in streaks and seemed heavy in their dryness. All at once he realized that he never should have come. As he looked around it was too late. The doorman was coming toward them.
...At a a table used as a registration desk sat a man of huge proportions. He looked so comical squeezed into the small space between table and the chair on which he was sitting, smoking, that both Jack and Dr. Johnson laughed.
Then in his best professional manner, the doctor extended his hand, sayin as he did so:
‘‘I’m Dr. Johnson. We had a little mishap. This is my friend Jack. He saved my life."
A look of astonishment and bewilderment came over the face of the clerk; then he arose in a lumbering fashion and said, "My word, Doctor, you are a sight! Wait here a moment, please", and he called Dr. Clemmits.
Dr. Clemmits came and together they laughted at the awkward situation. Then Clemmits, consulting the program, exclaimed that Dr. Johnson was to speak at three o’clock and that the chairman had been looking everywhere for him.
Jack turned to go, saying ‘You’ll be alright now Doc, I’ll be going, but I’ll get you back to the boat in time,’ and he slipped out of the door and out of sight.
Dr. Clemmits extended both hands in greeting and said, "Come along to my room. We’ll fix you up a bit. How did it happen, Sam?"
So, it was Sam who was to speak and had not arrived and here Breck was to substitute. It was a good joke on Sam, sometime he’d tell him all about it. Right now his heart beat several times too fast. He had only intended to slip in and listen to the lectures.
Dr. Clemmits was one used to taking charge of things, so he ordered his guest to undress. The clothing he had worn for weeks, all baggy and wrinkled, had not the least effect on Dr. Clemmits. He was used to country doctors and knew all about the hard-
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ships that were endured. It had been only a few years ago that this might have been himself. So he talked on and on, while the clothes were sent out to be pressed.
He took from his hand bag one of his own shirts and a tie while Dr. Johnson shaved. Breck learned that he was to speak on "Typhoid fever", and that warmed his heart. He’d had a measure of success with the treatment of the disease and also had some theories he would like to expound and in the name of Sam he would now venture forth.
Going down the street later, they stopped for a shine. The little darky boy, shining Breck’s shoes, kept muttering to himself, but on receiving a tip, grinned, and moved on to better shoes.
Three o’clock and now "Dr. Sam Johnson—Typhoid Fever".
Breck thought as he climbed to the rostrum, "Won’t Sam be surprised". And then because it was a subject to which he had given a great deal of thought and study, he began. He forgot the sea of faces before him, forgot all but that he was on familiar ground and with all the eloquence of language he was talking and his audience was listening.
In the dimly lighted room every eye was on him. Doctors older in years and experience, sat and listened. With the richness of old Kentucky in his voice, Dr. Johnson pleaded for a health program to educate the people as to cause and a plan to test all drinking water in all communities.
He expounded the theory of Public Health. Not only should there be laws governing the sale of drugs—and medicines—they should be inspected and labeled according to content. The people who handle medicines and foods for the public should be subject to strict regulations. He cited the instance of the storekeeper who kept milk and cheese uncovered on the counter while the lace, ribbons, and buttons were arranged in a glass case.
Tobacco chewing was alright, he said, but cuspidors should be provided in public places. If it was against the law to spit on floors and sidewalks, the law should be respected; whereas it would seem to be a weakness of character for one to voluntarily place a receptacle for the convenience of customers.
Another practice should be investigated—that of Midwives. They should be registered and approved by a state board.
As he sat down the doctor felt a light touch on his sleeve; it was the doorman telling him that Jack was outside waiting.
Amid the applause; Breck slipped away and together he and Jack went back to the boat.
‘I thought you all wanted to get goin’ north’, said Jack as they walked along. ‘You shore look different Doc, got on someone else’s clothes?"
‘No, I just had mine pressed. I do have another man’s shirt and tie on, but I’ll send them back."
‘Our boat shoves off at supper time’, the boy said, and added, "Them two fellows with you sold their boat".
They were all there waiting. But if they expected to hear a report of the convention, they were dissappointed, because the doctor had nothing to say. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself and, thinking he had made a mistake in offering the society an impromptu speech when the others had been prepared, he hoped no one ever found out. So he stood by the bales of cotton that were piled high; he preferred to be alone, smoking his pipe. Somehow, though, he was elated, he was glad he had gone.
In a few days he would be back home, making the rounds again, riding his horse over rough country trails, swimming the river where there was no ford.
He looked at the sky, all gold and blue, where the sun was going down and the waters were reflected back as the barge churned northward. He had attained the heights—as it were.
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