The folk who called the hills and hollers of the Great Smokies home faced their everyday ailments with self-doctoring, folk remedies, and treatment by local herb or “yarb” doctors and “grannywomen.” Many viewed doctors with suspicion and only called them as a last resort, choosing instead to risk complications of illness rather than calling in a “furriner toting a little black bag.”
As if their apprehension of modern medicine weren’t enough of an obstacle, most families lived miles, even days away from a physician. Procrastination was not an option, as doctors were summoned to birth babies, treat injuries, and even operate. Travel was difficult on a good day and dangerous more times than not. One stormy evening upon returning from a house call, Dr. West of Bryson City crossed a flood-swollen river in his buggy and was swept away and drowned. Dr. Bob Medford’s feet often froze to his stirrups while riding many a frigid night into Cataloochee on his trusted horse, John.
Although many mountain families were far removed from medical care, there were numerous physicians and hospitals in the surrounding towns of Maryville, Knoxville, Waynesville, and Asheville. Even some of the communities in the Smokies were fortunate enough to have doctors living within them. These physicians toiled tirelessly yet expected little in return, often accepting chickens, honey, and even the occasional quart of moonshine as compensation for their services.
Such was the case in Cades Cove, where from 1840 on, there was hardly a time the cove folk were without a doctor. One of the more prominent ones, Dr. Calvin Post, came to the cove from New York in 1846, set up practice, and served as a physician and community leader for nearly 30 years. A geologist as well, he mapped and mined the cove for gold and found none, but promoted the healing power of the waters flowing from its other mineral veins.
Though the mountains yielded no rush of gold, by the turn of the 20th century a “timber rush” was on, bringing with it lumber companies and their physicians. The Little River Lumber Company employed Dr. Bruce Montgomery for its timber towns of Elkmont, Tremont, and Townsend, establishing one of the first organized health care programs in the area.
For a flat monthly fee of $1.70 per employee, Dr. Montgomery treated illness, injury, and birthed his share of babies. He swore the babies always came with the blowing of the daily 5:00 a.m. “wake-up whistle,” saying that the sound of it signaled not only the beginning of the workday, but the beginning of life itself!
Organized health care soon came to other parts of the Smokies when the Pi Beta Phi medical clinic opened in Gatlinburg. German-born Dr. Charles Hoffman held classes at the clinic and trained local women in midwifery and in assisting him in his “kitchen-table surgeries,” holding down patients or administering ether, drop by drop, onto a cloth for anesthesia. He also “doctored” in Greenbrier, Cosby, and The Sugarlands. He was a familiar sight, as he rode horseback–usually with pipe in mouth–over miles of foot trails and wagon-rutted roads to reach the most remote farms, sometimes staying for days and nights on end.
A few miles from Gatlinburg, The Pittman Community Center was established and Dr. Robert Thomas, an ordained minister and missionary, arrived in 1926. Dr. Thomas maintained a clinic and on his horse, Old Maud, made countless “cabin calls.” It was said that during one 24-hour period, he “traveled 57 miles, wore out three horses, forded nine swollen creeks, and got soaked to the skin twice, as six of his cases that day were critical.”
He often served double duty as preacher and doctor, and when summoned to the delivery of a baby officiated at both the “birthin’” and the “baptizin’.”