Dr. Uncle Sammy: Another ‘Nut

“…he would never say no to anyone in need…”

Well, as far as the ‘Nuts were concerned, they all lived within one square mile of each other — some under the same roof; pretty much worked in the same town, with little to no commuting; and work tended to stay at work, as the 24/7 electronic age was still decades away. Unless of course, you were Doc Sam or Doc Lou — my great-uncles — who seemed to be on duty all the time! 

For reference: Doc Lou lived & practiced in small-town Arnold; Doc Sam lived & practiced in small-town Vandergrift, where I grew up, and happened to be our family doctor in addition to the focus of this story. I distinctly remember Doc Sam making house calls, toting along his worn, leather doctor bag —  complete with (cold) stethoscope, and filled with all kinds of bottles and needles that both fascinated and scared the daylights out of me! Even though a lot of us kids wanted to scurry when we saw him arrive (with doctor bag in hand), his mannerisms were ever so nurturing and calm. I just loved him. As a matter of fact, mention Doc Sam’s name today — decades after he passed, in 1979 — and people who knew him will pause and say, “What a wonderful man.”

I still have vivid memories from when we had to go into his actual office to be treated. Beloved Evelyn (or scary Evelyn, depending on your perspective!), his trusty nurse for yearrrrrs, was always at the ready and the outer room would be packed with people waiting to see him. If you think about it in 21st century terms, it was kinda gross because folks were basically sitting on top of each other… as in, the waiting room could get so crowded, a chicken wouldn’t be out of place! 

In your mind’s eye, picture a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting, complete with leather chairs sporting curved metal arms and smoothed-over, age-worn, seat cushions; lots of cold, metal, shiny implements, I was convinced came to life when one looked away; that smell of what I tell myself was disinfectant; and I seem to recall the walls being painted orange — quite the fashion statement in the 1970s! Can you see it?

Back to Doc Sam — or “Dr. Uncle Sammy,” as we called him. He passed away when I was only 9 years old, so I don’t have nearly as many memories as my older cousins and relatives do— heck, as most of the town of Vandergrift! But I knew enough that when I was with him, he seemed like a really good human who truly enjoyed helping people. 

His office was located on Longfellow Street, just a few blocks from his home, and you would be correct in thinking it was a bit of an institution/revolving door. He was an ENT physician (Ear, Nose & Throat) but in those days, local doctors performed a wide range of duties. For example, Dr. Uncle Sammy took out my sisters’ tonsils & adenoids — in the hospital, thank goodness… he wasn’t a barbarian after all! He cauterized my nose right in his office when I had been having nearly unstoppable nosebleeds. He performed any number of emergency medical treatments needed all around town, including delivering babies! And he even pierced our ears. 

There were stories of both Doc Sam and Doc Lou treating patients and “forgetting” about bills, when they knew someone couldn’t pay. House calls were a way of life and not solely reserved for family members; the middle of the night, deep snow or freezing temperatures mattered not! I used to love not having to go anywhere when I was sick as a kid. I could lie on the couch and Dr. Uncle Sammy would stop by and fix me. But…I never enjoyed having to get a shot. I’m guessing those were antibiotic shots we used to get? But, honestly, I have no clue. I just knew I didn’t like getting jabbed in the bum with a needle!

What I was too young to remember, was the extent of Doc Sam’s community involvement. According to his daughter, P.J., who filled in some holes for me (thank you, P.J.!), his days would begin by visiting workers at the local steel mills or foundry; followed by breakfast at Isaly’s, time permitting; and regular check-ins on any family members in need — all before lunch! His passion for athletics meant he’d frequently stop at Davis Field to “check on things,” (the football field for which he helped spearhead necessary improvements) after which he’d return to his office and work into the evening. Naturally, nightfall did not bring the end of his day as he would, without fail, receive phone calls in the wee hours from patients needing care. Somehow, within this very full schedule, he still found time to be on the school board during the late 1960s and early 70s, attend mass regularly, and even play golf once or twice a week. I’d need a nap after all that! Oh, and lest we forget, he was a much-loved husband and father to boot. 

Unsurprisingly, Dr. Uncle Sammy’s house was also unique. He shared his home with his lovely (and seemingly perpetually sun-tanned) wife, Phyllis, and two kids, P.J. and Sammy (my godfather). To me, the energy inside was happy and welcoming, and the decor looked like it was plucked straight outta Florida. Don’t quote me on accuracy, but my childhood mind can still see it… I recall white wicker-sorta-looking-furniture-stuff; I’m certain there was either a palm tree plant or some kind of palm tree pattern prolifically displayed (as wallpaper, perhaps?); and they owned the quintessential Italian sofa outfitted in a very tasteful, metallic gold velvet — although I don’t remember theirs was ever covered in plastic like some others were! 

In my parents’ generation and older, it was more common for the boys to be educated rather than the girls. As a result, there were a handful of males in the family who became doctors and lawyers, where the females tended to hold what were considered to be more traditional occupations at the time, of secretary, nurse, teacher, laborer, mother, homemaker — all very noble professions, then and now, but the pool of opportunity was much, much smaller back then.

They say we make our choices based in love or fear, but I don’t want to think the women in the ‘Nuts generation were loved any less than the men were. What makes more sense to me, is there was a greater likelihood for men to be financially successful during that particular time in history — thus better able to support family members, and hence why the boys’ education took priority. For women it was riskier; I could almost feel an underlying sense of fear, nearly desperation, in the mannerisms of the females who never married. Their toughness made a lot of sense when you think that their income opportunities were limited, and a number of them had to rely on someone else for their financial security. 

Can you think of many women who were sole breadwinners or heads of their households in the 1930s, 40s and 50s? I know I can’t. And for immigrants risking everything to uproot their families, sail across the ocean and build new lives for themselves in a relatively new, young country… they wanted not only to survive, but to thrive, and were laser-focused on creating prosperity and abundance for their family in whatever way made the most logical sense to them. Side note: My Nana, Adeline, broke the mold a bit when she became the first female probation officer in our county (I think in the 1960s?), and boy was she proud of that — rightfully so. More on her story another day.

Remember Aunt Minnie? (See previous post under “the ‘Nuts.”) Well, to my knowledge, she never finished high school nor did she marry, which in those days translated to, “How will she make enough money to support herself?” In stepped her brother, Doc Sam, who hired her in a clever way: According to legend (per my godmother, Weezi, whose mother was a ‘Nut), he somehow routed his office calls to her home, as an overflow option for when his office was busy or closed… which became her job in order to provide recorded income… so as to receive Social Security later in life. No doubt, men had certain advantages in the early-mid part of the 20th century, but it warms my heart knowing Doc Sam’s compassion and awareness lead him to find a creative way to empower his sister when she needed an advocate.

As 21st century women, we are far better off than our ancestors were. Nowadays, it shouldn’t make any difference whether one is married or not, has children or not, has working parents, or someone staying home with kids — whatever. The important thing is to lead with love and to do what is best for your family. Hopefully, we are getting better as a society. But if you are out there struggling in some way — in any way — conjure up some of that chutzpah our ancestors were known for, and remind yourself that you matter, you are worthy, every bit as much as everyone else.

To this day, folks still speak fondly of both Doc Sam and Doc Lou, because they were more than just doctors: They were community members who genuinely cared about their fellow human-folk. In 2024, it seems rare to find a physician who actually knows and remembers you — although they are definitely out there (thank you, Dr. Davis). If I can treat my family and others with a modicum of the respect and compassion that Dr. Uncle Sammy did, well, then… I done good.

L.S. 2024

*The aforementioned medieval-torture-devices are pictured at the top, courtesy of my cousin, Bobby McDermott. Okay, okay they aren’t actually torture devices… They are real-live implements once used by Dr. Uncle Sammy, and perhaps Doc Tom (his uncle) as well: fascinating tools we love guessing what they were once used for… 

If you are fuzzy about who the ‘Nuts are, check out my previous essays under the category entitled, well, the ‘Nuts. ☺️