We called him, “Old Doc.” he had delivered each of my parents’ babies and I was number twelve. His son “Young Doc” had delivered each of my baby girls.

“Old Doc” and my father had been best friends for many years. It was after I was five years old and moved from the big home on the corner of Byhalia, Ohio, along with my older brothers and sisters, to the house beside my father’s fourth and largest stone quarry in York Center that this all changed.

That is when, “Old Doc” said to my Dad, “If you keep on you are going to be worth more than I am”. Soon after that he said, “I’m going to break you if it’s the last thing I do”.

What was said in between those two statements no one ever told little “want to know everything” me! So I can’t tell you what either one of them said.

Somehow through political connections “Old Doc” was able to convince the county commissioners to purchase stone from East Liberty Sand and Gravel for county roads. And I don’t know how he did it but state officials did the same for state roads. To add insult to injury, East Liberty stone was spread on the road running right past my Dad’s York Center stone quarry.

This lasted only a short time, between two and three years. My father had state Grade-A lime stone, while East Liberty stone was brown sandstone that didn’t wear as well. Although I was quite small, I remember the crimp it put in our living. We survived that period and went on to a thriving business.

Several years later, when he was much older, “Old Doc” was driving into Mt Victory, Ohio, and as he came to the railroad crossing, the red lights were flashing, signaling an approaching train. The bars came down on each side of the tracks to stop traffic.

“Old Doc” never slowed down! He drove to the other side of the road, around the divider bar and onto the railroad tracks! The fast moving train crashed into his car!

And……so you see, “breaking my father” was not the last thing he did. He was wrong about that!

It was rumored he did it intentionally. We will never know for sure.


Anytime now, and my third baby would be born. I was looking forward with great anticipation. It is always such an exciting time, bringing a new little person into this world.

At my last visit to “Young Doc’s” office, I told him the baby’s head was pushing up against my stomach and its feet were pushing down toward my legs. He laughed at me and said, “If there is a head up by your stomach, you are having twins”.

It was only a few days after that, I started contractions. At the hospital, the girl attending me said, “You are ready to deliver and your doctor isn’t here”.

I said, “It’s going to be a breach”. She said, “Your doctor didn’t tell us”.

I told told her, “He doesn’t know”. Wow! Slap! Bang! She put me out like a light!

When I woke up, I was back in my room. I waited. And waited. Finally the girl who had attended me came in walking slowly and tenderly carrying my baby. She stopped a few feet from my bed, while she told me, “It was a breach birth, the head was last and your doctor had to break her little arm to get her head out before she died”.

There, snuggled in a blanket, she showed me my new little baby girl. I could only see her sweet little face before she took her back to the nursery.

“Young Doc” had set her tiny arm with tongue depressors and had left the hospital without coming in to see me as he had always done before. He never mentioned the conditions of the delivery or even let on how wrong he had been.

That baby girl with the broken arm, today is Doctor Pamela Dawn Drake.


When I was seventeen years old in the summer of 1940 “Old Doc’s” grandson, a politician, came to my home and asked if he could enter me in the Miss Ohio Beauty Pageant to be held at the Ohio State Fairgrounds on July 4th. I consented.

My sister Bobbie cut this picture from the Columbus Dispatch newspaper and mailed it to me.


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