by Susan Couso
The idea of ‘preventative medicine’ is a relatively new one. Years ago, doctors were usually only summoned when it was determined that the patient was well ‘over the hill’ and on his way to ‘meet his maker’. That is the case with Bogue Adams.
Adams reportedly opened the first saloon in Milford in 1864, and in his younger years, enjoyed the liberating effects of alcoholic beverages. He got into a few squabbles from these liberating effects too. But Bogue settled down, married the pretty Louisa, and became a farmer.
He and Louisa had a son, Fred, but when Louisa died in 1881, Fred was given to the True family to raise.
By 1908, Bogue was a stooped old man. His gray eyes still had a sparkle, but his back so bent that he was forever looking towards his feet. His house was neat and tidy, and he grew vegetables and fruit and cut firewood to get by. Bogue enjoyed people, especially children.
In November, Bogue became terribly ill. His closest neighbors, Fred Straack and ‘Pappy’ Sherwood alerted others, and everyone had suggestions. But Bogue did not respond to their help.
Finally, as his condition grew desperate, the big decision was made to send for a doctor.
There were several doctors in that area of the county: Dr. Von Gerichten, Dr. Millican, Dr. Fred Shanks and Dr. W. E. Dozier. Dr. Dozier was summoned and arrived in a short time in his light buggy, drawn by two feisty horses.
Dr. Dozier had a good reputation, was well-liked, and had a wealth of knowledge and experience. Everyone felt that he was Bogue’s best chance. But Dr. Dozier looked the patient over and soon recognized that this was not a simple case. Probably realizing that there was little hope, Dr. Dozier decided to operate. At least he could, perhaps, find the cause of Bogue’s distress.
By now, Bogue’s little house was full of onlookers. They had all gathered into the room to watch the surgery, and Dr. Dozier proceeded, oblivious to their wide eyes and shocked expressions. Many remarked that Dozier showed exceptional skill in the surgery.
When it was all over, the community of Milford waited anxiously to hear of Bogue’s condition, but it was not good news. On November 25th, Bogue succumbed to his illness.
It was a sad day for the town. Bogue had been a member of the Milford community for as long as most could remember. His stooped, bent body was a problem, and his back had to be broken for it to fit into his coffin. But Bogue was at peace, and was laid to rest with his wife, Louisa in the Milford cemetery.
