Remembering 'Doc' Cadle
Ruth
0. Richards
Originally published in the Emmitsburg Dispatch
Republished in the Emmitsburg News-Journal
William
Rodman Cadle, a descendant of
one of the early families of
Maryland, came to Emmitsburg in
1925 to open an office for the
practice of medicine. Having
been born in Urbana, Maryland,
he came to Emmitsburg with a
thorough understanding of small
towns.
A
graduate of Frederick High
School, the University of
Maryland, and the University of
Maryland School of Medicine,
after interning in the office of
Dr. Baer of Frederick he was
ready to strike out on his own.
With him came his wife, Carolyn,
who had a degree in nursing from
Anderson Hospital in Anderson,
S. C. She was an asset to Dr.
Cadle and to his practice
throughout his entire career.
When Dr. Cadle died in March of
1989, he left a town that for
fifty years had depended on him
for delivering its babies,
immunizing the children, and
caring for the aches and pains
of the fathers, mothers,
grandparents, and any family
members who needed medical
attention. With his compassion
and knowledge of human nature he
had endeared himself to the
whole community, both inside and
outside of the town limits.
Are there any former patients
still living who remember the
early offices and homes of Dr.
and Mrs. Cadle? Over the old
Post Office, above Houser's Drug
Store, next to the Presbyterian
Church, over Harner's Store, and
of course the office forever
remembered, at 300 West Main
Street. It is this office that
came to the minds of those who
shared with us their memories of
Dr.Cadle.
It
is this office with its antique
benches occupied by walk-in
patients without appointments,
who sat waiting to get comfort
for and relief from their
ailments. They shared their
troubles with each other as they
waited for Dr. Cadle to come
from the hospital at one o'clock
in the afternoon or from dinner
at six in the evening. A number
of his patients from those days
provided written reminiscences
of their visits.
Mary Fiery reminds us that Dr.
Cadle not only had office hours,
but also made house calls. She
tells of his kindness to her
father on an office call, and of
a special home visit he made one
spring. Mary and her sister had
scarlet fever and, in keeping
with the times, the children
were quarantined. It was Easter
weekend and when Dr. Cadle came
to check on the Fiery girls, he
brought with him an Easter
Basket for each of them. To be
remembered in such a way when
they were sick was a special
treat and became a lifelong
memory. Mary also writes of her
lack of fear when getting her
flu shots and smallpox
vaccination, a memory shared by
others who told their stories.
Father Shaum, a professor at
Mount St. Mary's, writes: "I was
a patient of Dr. Cadle, and he
was the essence of what a family
physician should be. His
Southern background made him a
gentleman, soft-spoken with a
drawl–his expertise in medicine
and his experience were evident
and he was honest and direct
with you...."
Mary Krug remembers: "He was the
best doctor around. When you
walked into his office, he knew
right away what was wrong with
you and he helped you."
Becky Nail Kile: "Dr. Cadle made
being a sick or injured kid a
whole lot better just by being
such an easy-going and friendly
person. I must add that Dr.
Cadle enjoyed talking about his
son, Bo, of whom he was very
proud. What a wonderful man!"
Eleanor Humerick recalls that
Dr. Cadle delivered her last
baby. She added that she and
others felt that he was caring
and understanding, making their
deliveries so much easier.
Bern Welty speaks of a near
miracle when, after Bern
ruptured his spleen in a fall,
Dr. Cadle put Bern's blood back
into his body, using a technique
that he had read about in a
medical journal as having been
performed on Guadalcanal during
World War II.
Ann Marshall, in drama form,
relates a friendly confrontation
between Dr. Marshall and Dr.
Cadle about treating a child of
the Marshalls who had been
injured in an act of clumsiness.
Dr. Cadle won, of course, and
Ann reports that Dorothea was
cured of her clumsiness.
Luretta Adelsberger liked to
tell the story of Dr. Cadle's
understanding of women and the
"little pink pill." Nearly every
woman in town at one time or
another sought the help of Dr.
Cadle for worry and nervousness.
After listening to each
complaint, Dr. Cadle would take
a very large bottle of pink
pills, put a few in a little
white envelope, write directions
on the envelope, and give it to
the complaining woman. Luretta
said that all the women felt
better immediately. Sometime
during one of these encounters,
Dr. Cadle suggested jokingly
that he should just place the
big bottle of pink pills in the
waiting room so that each woman
could come in and take whatever
she felt she needed to feel
better.
Harry Jones writes from Camp
Hill, Pa., to tell about the
time during the War when he was
on duty on an aircraft carrier
in Cuba. His wife Petie, in
Emmitsburg, was expecting. When
the baby arrived, Dr. Cadle sent
a message to Harry telling him
of the baby's birth.
Sissie Kugler writes mainly of
Dr. Cadle's generosity in taking
the town kids in his Ford truck
out to Kump's Dam to go
swimming. She sent a newspaper
clipping of Bo and Carolyn Cadle,
Ann and Harriet Stinson, Bobby
Gililean, and herself in the
back of the truck going out to
"share the water hole with the
cows; the cows didn't seem to
mind. We always relied upon Dr.
Cadle to give us kids a ride out
to the dam."
And then there's the story of
Dr. Cadle's house call to a
family who had a most
obstreperous three-year-old. The
child, whose mother had no
control over him, was behaving
so badly while Dr. Cadle was
there that he took things into
his own hands, turned the boy
over his knee, and spanked him.
When Dr. and Mrs. Cadle came to
Emmitsburg, there was no
hospital. The very sick patients
were taken to Frederick.
However, Mrs. Cadle was
instrumental in establishing a
clinic for women on the top
floor of the Fire Hall. Later
on, Dr. Crist of the Annie
Warner Hospital in Gettysburg
worked with Dr. Cadle to make it
possible for the sick of
Emmitsburg to be admitted to the
Annie Warner Hospital, a
connection that continues today.
Throughout his career, Dr. Cadle
made house calls, sometimes
before he went to the hospital
in the morning, sometimes on his
return. Once a man came home in
utter pain shortly after he had
gone to work. Called at home,
Dr. Cadle made a diagnosis over
the phone: "kidney stone!" Then
Dr. Cadle went to the house,
gave the man a shot to ease the
pain and sent him to the
hospital.
There were patients who did not
go to any hospital. Dr. Cadle
would often go to the homes of
maternity patients, frequently
accompanied by Mrs. Cadle, to
deliver babies. At other times
the babies were delivered in his
home office where there were
rooms available.
Because of the proximity of the
office to their home, the Cadle
children were at times involved
in the patient-doctor
relationship. Dr. Cadle's son Bo
has a memory of seeing a man on
a gurney with a sheet over him
and an arm hanging over the side
of the gurney. Bo reached out
and touched the arm just as his
father came into the room. "You
have just shaken hands with a
dead man," Dr. Cadle informed
him.
Another memory for Bo is his
answering the door at home and
seeing a man whose face had been
blown off. Obviously Dr. Cadle's
children had become acquainted
with illness and accident at an
early age.
In
the fifteen years or so that Dr.
Cadle had been practicing
medicine in Emmitsburg, no time
had been as busy as the years of
World War II. Many of the
doctors from the surrounding
towns either were drafted or
chose to enlist, reminding Dr.
Cadle that he himself had
enlisted in the United States
Army at College Park during the
First World War.
When the doctors of Thurmont,
Taneytown, and Blue Ridge Summit
left for the war, Dr. Cadle
assumed the responsibility of
their practices. He also had
more responsibility at the
hospital. Surgeries had to be
performed, babies delivered,
accident victims cared for. Most
of these patients were treated
by Dr. Wolf and Dr. Cadle. Dr.
Wolf was the surgeon and Dr.
Cadle the an aesthesiologist,
requiring both these doctors to
spend long hours at the
hospital.
Almost anyone who speaks about
Dr. Cadle mentions his fee for
an office visit--two dollars. No
one ever asked for or got a
receipt. No one made an
appointment. If there were an
emergency requiring immediate
help, a phone call would result
in "Come now...." or "Come in an
hour..." or some other
arrangement that would quickly
take care of the emergency.
Dr. Cadle's fee for the delivery
of babies seems just as
ridiculous. One baby was
delivered in 1944 for "$27.00
and a box of cigars." Another
one was delivered in 1948 for
$35.00. There is no record of
when he stopped attending
births, but women are still
saying wonderful things about
Dr. Cadle's delivery of their
babies. Dr. and Mrs. Cadle had
two children, Bo (W.R. Cadle,
Jr.) and Carolyn. Both speak
warmly of their father as they
recollect their childhood. Their
father's discipline consisted
mainly of his demeanor. They
would know from his reaction to
the circumstances when he felt
they had done something he
disapproved of. Carolyn
remembers a time, a rare time,
when she was taken into the
office and spanked on her
bottom. She said she was
terribly embarrassed.
There were few rules in this
family. Two that Bo remembers:
the family had to eat supper
together and the family had to
go to church. Dr. Cadle would
also ask his children, "Did you
do any good today?"
Dr. Cadle would use the occasion
of suppertime to tell stories of
his own life, including many
stories of pranks he and his
friends played in school. Bo
really liked those stories and
related them as though he were
envious of them, or perhaps
remembering a prank or two of
his own.
It
was obvious to both Bo and
Carolyn that their father wanted
them to have a good education.
But in their remembering this,
there's a bit of resentment in
the voices of both Bo and
Carolyn.
There's a charm in the lives of
small town children that is
unique. They are carefree and
have the whole town as their
playground–all the streets,
alleys, yards, and the
surrounding fields outside the
town. They also have their
little "gangs,"–boys with boys
and girls with girls. So it was
with Bo and Carolyn.
Much of that charm was
diminished after Bo and Carolyn
had finished their elementary
education at the Emmitsburg
Public School. Dr. Cadle wanted
them to have a better education
than continuing at that school
could provide. Carolyn went to
the Girls' High School at St.
Joseph College. Bo went to
Frederick High School,
necessitating his living in
Frederick during the school
week. He lived with his Aunt
Pauline, a teacher at Parkway
Elementary School. Later he
lived with his track coach James
Frazier and his wife Ellabelle.
Bo said that when he would come
home on weekends he would
realize that he was missing out
on the fun and relationships
with hometown friends. When Bo
and Carolyn graduated from high
school, they followed in their
father's footsteps and received
their degrees from the
University of Maryland.
It
would seem that Dr. Cadle was so
busy that he would have had very
little time for himself. However
there were a number of
activities in Emmitsburg that
claimed his attention. He was a
Director of the Farmer's State
Bank, where the branch bank of
Mercantile stands. He was a
member of the Lions Club that
met for dinner once a month, the
other members being local
businessmen. Dr. and Mrs. Cadle
had an occasional bridge game
with friends. On Thursday, his
day off, he sometimes played a
game of pool at Chick
Rosensteel's bowling alley on
Main Street.
Dr. Cadle was a fan of baseball
and had played the game not only
as a youngster but also when he
was an undergraduate at
Maryland. Later he helped
organize and set up a baseball
club for Emmitsburg. Some of the
names of the men and boys of
this team are familiar to
everybody: Leonard Zimmerman,
John Hollinger, Sr., Bernie
Boyle, George Gingell There were
others, too.
The baseball games were played
mostly on Sunday afternoons
after church when businessmen
had free time. The scheduled
opponents were Thurmont,
Fairfield, Taneytown, and
Urbana, Dr. Cadle's hometown.
Dr. Cadle umpired many of these
games. Wanting the spectators of
these games to have a place to
sit, Dr. Cadle designed and
supervised the building of the
bleachers that are currently at
the Ball Park.
Another recreation for Dr. Cadle
was photography, both still and
moving. Among his subjects were
ordinary people from around
town, especially children, ball
games, snow storms, swimming at
Kump's Dam, and anything else
that caught his eye at the
moment. He also developed a
skill at oil painting as well as
sketching.
With the thought in mind of
having a weekend retreat, Dr.
Cadle bought land from Charlie
Mort along Middle Creek and
built a log cabin using chestnut
logs from the Pecher Farm. Bo
has warm memories of whiling
away his time at the Cabin.
Dr. Cadle was an expert
woodworker. In addition to
cabinet work for the Cabin, he
created benches, chairs,
candlesticks, corner cupboards,
tables, clocks, and a
chessboard. Most of these pieces
are at the Cadle home, an old
brick house restored by Dr.
Cadle. Bo and Jean now live
there, across the creek from the
Cabin.
Obviously a man with endless
energy, Dr. Cadle also gardened.
Bern Welty remembers that early
on, Dr. Cadle had a garden
across from Bern's present home,
and Bo says that there was a
garden behind the office in
town, and there also were
chickens. When they eventually
moved to Middle Creek, both Dr.
and Mrs. Cadle had gardens, Dr.
Cadle growing vegetables, and
Mrs. Cadle, flowers. Bea
Keilholtz remarked that Dr.
Cadle often brought specimens of
wonderful vegetables to show and
give to Bea. Bea, herself a
gardener, surely must have
enjoyed the flowers in Mrs.
Cadle's garden.
Dr. Cadle's largest project
outside of medicine was
boatbuilding. Bo remembers
seeing books and building plans
for boats spread out on Dr.
Cadle's desk in his office. The
initial boat was nine feet long
and was tested in the streams
around Emmitsburg, particularly
in the stream that flows past
the Cabin. Apparently satisfied
that he could be a boat builder,
he went on to build a larger
boat. Then finally the "Big
Boat" was built in the garage
behind the house on Main Street.
When this boat was finished, it
was loaded onto a trailer and
"sailed" down Main Street with
the blessing of all who had
watched its creation, then on to
the Bay where it was launched.
Nobody really knows who the
privileged were who were invited
to a weekend on the Bay, but one
thing was sure, Mrs. Cadle was
always along to indulge her love
of fishing.
Bigger boats. Bigger waters.
Bigger fun, giving this boat
builder a chance to renew his
love of the water and the
watermen, proof of the trait
that endeared this man to his
patients: Dr. Cadle never lost
touch with the common man.
For much of Dr. Cadle's career
he was the physician for Mount
St. Mary's and Saint Joseph, two
colleges just south of
Emmitsburg. The Emmitsburg
Chronicle for June 1, 1972,
reported that Dr. Cadle was
awarded an Honorary Doctor of
Laws degree by Mount Saint
Mary's College. The full text of
the citation reads:
"There are some rare men who are
content to carry on difficult
and significant tasks without
fanfare or applause. Such a
person is W. R. Cadle, who for
more than forty years has served
our College and our Community
with great dedication and superb
skill in the practice of
medicine. Few persons in the
large area in which has toiled
have made such a genuine
contribution to our society. In
reality, some of us would not be
here were it not for him, since
he brought us into life, and not
infrequently hauled us back from
the shadow of the unknown. "The
rural physician is seldom the
object of public gratitude. He
works back-breaking hours under
trying conditions in the service
of his fellow man, assuaging
both bodily afflictions and
mental ills. He is healer and
helper, confidant, and
comforter. Indeed, his roles are
as numerous as the needs of his
people: his compassionate
commitment to humanity, truly
inspiring."
Three years later, in June 1975,
Dr. Cadle, to the surprise of
all, announced his retirement.
The Emmitsburg Chronicle of June
1975, in reporting his
retirement, repeated much of the
praise that had been accorded
him at the Mount ceremony which
awarded him the Doctor of Laws
degree in 1972. The item also
mentioned as reasons for Dr.
Cadle's retirement his age as
well as the high cost of
malpractice insurance.
When the retirement came, Dr.
and Mrs. Cadle moved from their
home and office on West Main
Street to their home on Harney
Road and Middle Creek. There is
no written record of his
feelings about retirement.
Everyone who knew him knows that
he would not have complained; he
would have been too proud for
that. He gardened a large plot
of ground and was pleased to
show the successes of that
garden to his neighbors.
While shopping at the Jubilee
grocery store, Dr. Cadle would
meet other shoppers who had once
been his patients. He knew the
names of everyone he met, and
they of course were pleased. His
step was still the wide-striding
amble of old, but slower. His
posture was still erect; his
voice low and caring. And he
still did care. He'd say, "How
are you?" and everyone felt that
he really wanted to know. He had
driven himself to the store and
was still in control.
Birth and death having been so
much a part of his life, when
Dr. Cadle faced death he chose a
quote from Psalm 90 as his
mantra, "I have lived my three
score years and ten." It's not
surprising to learn that he
reluctantly gave up driving. No
more hospital visits, no more
trips to the Bay or even to the
grocery store.
Realizing that he, the handyman,
could no longer keep up the
repairs to their big old house
as he had always done, he tried
to convince Mrs. Cadle that
their only choice was to move.
Mrs. Cadle understandably
refused. However, when Dr. Cadle
was diagnosed with inoperable
cancer, the move became
imperative. Carolyn suggested
that her parents move to a small
house on the Lower property.
With some modifications of
adding a room or two and modern
conveniences to make the house
more comfortable, Dr. and Mrs.
Cadle moved there in 1989.
As
his life was closing, Dr. Cadle,
preferring privacy, saw few
people–mainly a few of his older
friends. He died on March 29,
1989, surrounded by his family,
shortly after the move to
Carolyn's. He is buried in
Greenmount Cemetery at
Arendtsville, Pa.
The Sisters of Charity at
Saint Joseph College,
for whom he had cared so long,
held an Ecumenical Memorial
Service for Dr. Cadle at the
Shrine of Saint Elizabeth Ann
Seton. Participating in
the service were the Clergy of
Emmitsburg, children whom he had
delivered during his time of
serving the community, the
Sisters of Charity of Saint
Joseph, and members of the staff
of the Gettysburg Hospital.
There was an outpouring of love,
affection, and gratitude as
members of the entire community
assembled to express their
sympathy to Dr. Cadle's family
and their gratitude for all that
Dr. Cadle had done for
Emmitsburg, the town he had
adopted in 1925.
Read other articles by Ruth
Richards
Do
you have your memories of Dr.
Cadle?
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