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| Dr. Branson |
He
healed and comforted the sick; he made house calls, established free clinics
for children and expectant mothers, was an active member of numerous local
civic and fraternal organizations, marched proudly in Veterans’ and Memorial
Day parades. And in his spare time, Dr. Sidney R. Branson donned a striped
engineer’s cap and operated elaborate model train systems in the basement of
his South Windham home.
Before
the memory fades, in this first of a multi-part historical record series, I
will highlight the life
and times of a beloved country doctor who cared for up
to five generations of Windham residents, principally baby boomers following
World War II.
Today,
Dr. Branson would be called a general practitioner, but during the middle
decades of the 20th century, his family medical practice might be
the only care anyone would have.
“The
overwhelming thought I have when thinking about my father is his abiding love
and respect for his patients and for the town of Windham.” recalls his son,
John, “(His) highest calling was service to the men, women and children under
his care.” Born Sidney R. Abramsohn in Brooklyn, New York in 1912 and raised in
New Jersey, he later changed his name to Branson.
“I
always wanted to be a doctor.” he once told an interviewer, “…it came from
within me from almost childhood. In fact, my nickname in high school was
‘Doc.’”
Branson
graduated from the University of Michigan Medical School in 1937 at age 28 and
soon after came to Windham. In addition to his practice as a family doctor and
obstetrician, he was also the Windham school doctor, the town’s public health
officer (which included issuing restaurant and food stand permits), county
medical examiner, visiting physician to Pineland Mental Hospital, staff
physician at St. Joseph’s College and doctor for the Men’s Reformatory (now
Maine Correctional Center). Regarding his service with the inmates, Branson
indicated the need for emotional, as well as physical healing – “I tried to
improve the morale of the patients through a cheery word and smile as well as
cure them of their boils, colds and what-not.”
At
Pineland, Branson met Nora Baker, a registered nurse at the institution. They
would marry and raise three children.
World
War II interrupted Branson’s service to Windham. From 1942 to early 1946 he
served in a M-A-S-H (Mobile Army
Surgical Hospital) unit and in the Pacific theater. He later said he considered
service to his country one of his greatest accomplishments.
In
a letter to the editor of a local paper following the war, Branson wrote, “Hats
off to (the letter writer) defending the use of atom bombs on Japan. I too get
upset when I hear people blame America for using these weapons. The Pentagon
estimated at least 250,000 American casualties would result (from an American
invasion of the Japanese mainland). Our unit was destined to invade a heavily
armed Japanese naval base.” After the Japanese surrender, Branson said, “That
night our people started shooting their guns in celebration and we had 27
casualties from spent bullets. Fortunately, no fatalities.”
Branson
returned to his family medical practice in 1946, just in time to deliver the
first-born baby boomers. He estimated that in his 45-year practice, he
delivered over 1500 babies.
Branson
and wife opened their first office at Little Falls (Gorham, but traditionally
referred to as South Windham) in 1941. Branson made house-calls in the morning
and held office hours in the afternoon, including evening hours from 7 p.m. to
9 p.m. three nights a week. From here, he would serve Windham and surrounding
towns.
Son
John recalls “(One time) he got up three times in one night to answer emergency
situations. Many nights he would be called out to deliver babies at the old
Westbrook Hospital, Maine General or Mercy hospitals.”
In
1990, looking back over a long medical career, Branson told Portland Press
Herald columnist Bill Caldwell, “I charged $35 for delivering babies at home.
Took out tonsils for $35. Asked $3 for an office visit and $5 for a house call.
Saw every kind of illness. In a pinch, I’d even pull out teeth with a pair of ‘universal
pliers’.”
But
the doctor’s most unforgettable house call occurred in Standish with a mother
and her daughter. In his own words, Branson told the story this way: “I told my
wife I would be back for supper, but it wasn’t until two days later I returned.
The shack had no phone. The daughter went in and out of labor, so I just had to
wait. Throughout the day flies were buzzing around, so we had to put a net over
her. At night the mice came out.” For two days, the mother served coffee and
doughnuts. Finally, after a prolonged and difficult labor, “We had a nice baby
girl – so it worked out all right.”
Another
time, again in Standish, a distressed mother called for him to drive out to see
what was wrong with her very sick daughter. “I kept two black bags at the ready
– a medical bag and an obstetrical bag. I grabbed the medical bag and went. But
the girl wasn’t sick, she was having a baby. Because I hadn’t brought the
obstetrics bag, I had nothing to tie off the umbilical cord. I saw a sneaker on
the floor and told the mother to pull out the laces and soak them in alcohol. I
tied the cord with shoe laces. Didn’t hurt any. That baby is now a big
strapping man.”
In
an interview following Dr. Branson’s retirement in 1982, he was asked if he had
any students who would pretend to be sick to avoid school. “We had a few of
those,” he replied.
Windham
resident Carol Taylor tells about the time she feigned sickness to avoid going
to school. Her parents called Doc Branson. After an examination that failed to
show any signs of illness, he told the parents “there may be some redness in
the back of her throat,” whereupon he turned back to Carol, and winked.
Susan
Atwood says, “Doc Branson took excellent care of five generations of my family
from my great-grandparents down to my children. (I) loved to hear him say, “Oh
yeah” (because he) said it like ‘Oh yarrah,’ like a New Yorker.”
Life-long
resident Gary Plummer said he considers Dr. Branson to be one of the greatest
people he has known, citing the doctor’s support for kids and his extensive
involvement in town affairs.
Few
who knew the good doctor fail to remember his undying interest in trains and
the elaborate model rail system that he built up over many years. The layout
included an extensive track scheme, over 40 engines, hundreds of freight and
passenger cars, and dozens of railroad memorabilia. He worked his hobby after
office hours, between 10 p.m. and midnight. He named the HO scale model village
the Windham & Gorham Railroad. Two of the passenger cars were dubbed The
Pill and The Scalpel. In 1958, Dr.
Branson rode the last (real) passenger train over the Mountain Division line.
His
long-time friend and fellow rail enthusiast Al Wellman speculated “I suspect
part of the reason for the location of his home on Rt. 202 was its proximity to
the Maine Central Mountain Division line.”
Dr.
Sidney Branson passed away in 2002, age 90. In retirement he had continued to
reach out to people. He was known for his smile and friendly hello and as he
put it, “A little banter – that’s healthy. People these days are too tense and
avoid eye contact. It takes just as much effort to frown as it does smile – so
smile.”
In
the next installment of “Before the memory fades”, The Apple Man of River Road
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