Bertram Doolittle: 52 Ancestors 2020 Prompt “Service”

Serving Patients to the End:

Bertram Urson Doolittle: 1880-1914

                                                                                      

As I watch doctors and nurses risk their lives to help their patients during the COVID-19 crisis, I am awed by their courage and their commitment to serve those in need. Their actions reminded me of one of my ancestors who paid the ultimate price while serving his patients.

Bertram Urson Doolittle, my first cousin twice removed, was born to Frederick Doolittle and Mathilda “Tillie” Macbeth Doolittle on October 27, 1880. Bertram’s father Frederick was a farmer in LeRay Township in Blue Earth County, Minnesota. Tillie’s brother Charles Macbeth was Frederick’s neighbor, which probably explains how Frederick met Tillie. My grandfather Walter Macbeth, another of Tillie’s brothers, also lived nearby. Sadly, Frederick died when Bertram was only eight years old. I have found no obituary or death certificate that could explain why he died at age 37, but his tree-stump headstone at the local cemetery emphasizes that his life was cut brutally short.

Tillie and Bertram continued to live on the farm after Frederick’s death. I expect Tillie must have needed help to run it; perhaps she turned to her brothers. By the 1900 census, when Bertram was 19, he was working as a butcher to support his mother and himself.

Tillie’s brother Albert Macbeth stepped in to help his nephew. Albert had become a respected physician in Fort Wayne, Indiana. His father-in-law had founded a medical school in Fort Wayne, and Albert helped Bertram get enrolled. He graduated from Fort Wayne College of Medicine in 1905 as part of the school’s final class (it merged with another medical college). Later that year, Bertram opened his own medical practice, “taking rooms” over the drug store in Fort Wayne.

He practiced for one year in Fort Wayne before taking over the practice of a doctor in Whiting, Indiana, located on the shore of Lake Michigan near the Illinois border, about 140 miles from Fort Wayne. Shortly after arriving in the city, he married a young woman from Fort Wayne, Edna Rutman. She was 21; Bertram was 25.

Over the next nine years, Bertram became a valued member of the community. He joined the Elks and the Masons. He built his medical practice and bought a handsome home on 119^th Street in Whiting. He was appointed as the secretary of the Board of Health and was pressing for improved sanitation in the city.

Bertram's house as it appears in 2020

He also became involved in the city’s efforts to found a local ice company. Hot Indiana summers led to food spoilage that caused illness. People were turning to ice boxes for food storage, but were dependent on a single company that cut ice blocks from lakes to the north and hauled it down to Whiting to sell as exorbitant rates. Bertram joined with other city leaders and formed the Whiting Pure Ice Company, cutting ice from a local lake and selling it for less to residents. He was the young company’s vice president and one of the major shareholders.

Cutting ice around 1910 in Illinois

Unfortunately, his success and promising future were cut short in the spring of 1914. Bertram became ill. He remained at home, nursed by wife Edna and his mother, Tillie, who had come to live with them. His condition deteriorated over a two week period, and he died on May 14 at the age of 33.  The death certificate listed rheumatism and meningitis as the causes of death, while the obituary said pneumonia. I didn’t understand how rheumatism could kill someone, but research revealed that in the 1910s the term “rheumatism” was used nearly interchangeably with “rheumatic fever”. That disease could easily lead to pneumonia and death, so it is likely rheumatic fever was his real diagnosis.

Rheumatic fever is also a contagious disease. As a general physician, Bertram would have treated patients with a variety of contagious illnesses in an era when there was no PPE (personal protective equipment) available. He likely became infected from a patient, and was unable to recover despite his wife’s best efforts to nurse him. According to the newspaper article reporting his death, Dr. Doolittle “without a doubt enjoyed the largest practise in this city and it was often said of him ‘the lack of funds in the family never prevented Dr. Doolittle from stepping in and doing all within his power to alleviate suffering or to use his best efforts in prolonging life.’” As such a busy and dedicated doctor, he was probably overworked and exhausted, which left his immune system more vulnerable to infection.

Bertram was given a special funeral ceremony at his home by the local Elks’ club. According to the newspaper, the Elks ceremony was Bertram’s final wish. After that, his body was transported by train to Fort Wayne for another service arranged by his uncle Albert Macbeth. He was buried back in Minnesota in the Tivoli Cemetery near his father’s farm. His headstone bears the Masonic Square and Compasses symbol.

Bertram’s death was devastating for both his young wife and for his mother, who had lost her only child only 25 years after losing her husband. Tillie moved back to Minnesota, surviving for another thirty years after Bertram’s death.

Bertram’s wife Edna never remarried. She continued to live in their home on 119^th Street in Whiting. She worked for the Whiting Pure Ice Company for a while, taking on a board officer position. She also took in boarders; several decades of census data show she had four to five people at a time boarding in her home. She followed Bertram into community service, running for city offices, serving as city court clerk for several years, and participating in a variety of clubs and committees. She died in 1972.