Parker County Today Dec. 2018 | Page 18

Continued from page 8 16 The object of his attention is his newborn daughter who came into the world in a birthing room that looks more like a hotel suite than a delivery room. The new mother strolls the hallway just hours after giving birth, as pain-free as modern medicine is capable of making it. Although they are unaware of it, the hospital experience for the new parents is in part the culmination of the dream and vision of one man, Dr. William Murphy Campbell. Dr. Campbell was 98 years old when he died on March 8, 1958, as the oldest active physician in the state. During those 98 years, the country fought four wars and a police action in Korea. Those same years saw the prac- tice of medicine change dramatically; and no one was more pleased with the progress than Dr. Campbell. He was a philanthropist, a visionary and a physician in the true sense of the word. His goal was to heal and his ideal world was that both men and women would be free from pain. He felt strongly that childbirth should be as pain- free as possible, often standing between a young woman in childbirth and her mother who said the pangs of labor are meant to be suffered and endured. Eventually, Dr. Campbell became a highly sought-after speaker in the medical world who traveled around the globe to address other physicians. But, young Campbell’s arrival in Parker County was without fanfare. A team of oxen pulled a wagon laden with household goods and a family newly arrived in the county in April of 1862. It had been a long, slow jour- ney over rutted trails from Shelby County. As the wagon reached the rise near Spring Creek, Frances O’Bryan Campbell looked across the rolling hills to their destina- tion, an area between Spring Creek and Sanchez Creek called Smith Valley. Her 4-year-old son William pointed to smoke in the distance. Frances’s mind turned to thoughts of Indian raids. Her fears quickly subsided at the sight of her husband, William Carter Campbell, a former Indian scout and ranger, who had a well-deserved reputa- tion as a crack shot with a rifle. In Smith Valley, they built their log home. On the west side of Spring Creek lived James Bedford’s family, Dr. Campbell said years later. He was called the “Iron Jacket Preacher.” About one-half mile west of (Tin Top community) was a double-log house occupied by an African-American family. Far down in the valley near the river was a single hut, which had been occupied by the Berry family; but, the Indians scalped Mr. Berry, a man of British descent, Campbell recalled years later. On the east side of Spring Creek lived Ben Irby, and up on the east side of the mountain lived the Wilsons. Up the creek a little way were the Seelys and the Shaws. The War Between the States was underway and William Carter Campbell joined the Confederate Army, leaving behind his wife and family, including young William. During the long years of the war, there were but seven families living in the area of Smith Valley and the Spring Creek community. All the men were gone into Confederate service except three or four older men, Dr. Campbell said. It was during the war years that Indians stole two of the Wilson children. (They were later returned to their families.) The pioneers struggled through that time period and were aided by what Dr. Campbell considered their best asset — loyalty. “The Bible recalls the loyalty of David and Jonathan. But my heart swells with emotion when I think of the loyalty of six young women to my mother with three small children,” Dr. Campbell wrote years later. “For three long years while my father was in the war, these young women never allowed my mother to spend a night alone: Polly Staggs, whose husband died in the war, lived to the west; the four Wilson girls lived to the east; and more than a mile to the north lived Sis Shaw.” At the age of 7 or 8 (stories differ), William was deemed strong enough and old enough to lead a team of oxen pulling a plow. It was a necessity. The war had seen other tangible property stolen from the Campbell family; the land was all that was left. It was long, hot, slow work in a field where the tough red clay could be a foot deep, but then gave way to rich loam. A year later, at the age of 9, William picked the first acre of cotton planted south of Weatherford. Later, when the urge to buy a store-bought hat struck him, William shucked 150 bushels of corn for a neighbor to earn the money to finance his purchase.   It was an age when diphtheria, typhoid and malaria caused epidemics across the country; a time when women struggled to give birth in isolated cabins and considered themselves blessed if both they and their child survived. William’s mother gave birth to 10 children — at least that is the total of the ones who survived birth. Her struggles sparked a need in William to alleviate the pain and suffering endured in order to bring a new life into the world. At the age of 18, he bought his first medi- cal book; at 19 he began teaching school to earn money for college. But the illiteracy of the time appalled him, impeding progress, he said, and his own title of teacher impressed him not.  If anyone came into the community who could read McDuffy’s Reader and could decipher a little and pronounce the words in the Blue Book Speller, he was the schoolmaster, Dr. Campbell said.  Campbell graduated at 22 from Add-Ran College, the forerunner of Texas Christian University. Returning to teaching, he earned enough money to get his medi- cal degree through Vanderbilt Medical College. He then returned to Parker County and began a medical career that spanned more than 68 years. As a family practitioner, he fought the diseases of the times while struggling to find ways to alleviate pain.  In 1948, when Dr. Campbell was addressing a crowd and discussing his and other families’ early years in Parker County, it wasn’t the war or Indian raids, nor the lack of roads and transportation that was a pioneer’s greatest enemy. According to Dr. Campbell, the most murderous enemy was the mosquito.  Hundreds of acres were in lakes and ponds, Dr. Campbell said. They bred unnumbered malarial mosqui- toes. No defense. No screens. No quinine. Thanks to