(Above) Caption reads: At this work table Dr. Mullins makes false teeth, does other dental repairs for his patients.
(Above) Caption reads: Dr. Mullins relaxes on couch bought in 19(unreadable). Certificate (on the wall) is dated 1897.
(Above)Caption reads: Dr. Mullins pauses for pictures but he thinks he'll wait 'til he's 100 before he quits his practice. Dallas Morning News Parade Magazine, October 30, 1960.
(Above) Headline reads: 91-Year Old Dentist.
Below is the transcript of the above article. Note from Moonyene (his granddaughter) to Robert Fodge concerning the above article: "This article came out in the Dallas Morning News Parade Magazine on October 30, 1960. I thought it was a good summary for you. A few briefs: 1. He never ate second helpings at a meal. 2. He always took a 15-minute nap every day after lunch."
91-Year Old Dentist
by Paul Rosenfield
Tree salesman, sharecropper and buggy-riding tooth puller—that’s part of the amazing history of Dr. W. N. Mullins, of Clarksville, one of the oldest practicing dentists in the United States.
His hands are steady. His eyes are clear. He walks erect, works six days a week, eats whatever he wants, and has most of his own teeth.
Pretty good for a man past 70? Yes, and incredible for any man of 91. And just how old is a 91-year-old dentist?
Well, he’s old enough to keep as part of his office furniture an overstuffed couch he bought in 1908 from Sears, Roebuck & Co. for $11 and an old-fashioned foot motor that powered early-day drills.
Dr. Mullins bought that museum piece in 1897, and it was second hand then. (He doesn’t use it in his work, but it provokes plenty of conversation.)
And he’s young enough to think about the possibility of retiring in nine more years. Dr Mullins will be 100 then.
"I’m in good health. I don’t wear glasses except to read and to drive my car, and there’s no reason for me to think I won’t be here nine years from now," he said. "Then, I’ll retire and spend my time hunting and fishing."
Dr. Mullins can laugh now about the early days.
"In 1897 you didn’t need a diploma to get a certificate to practice dentistry. All you had to do was go before the board and pass an examination," he said. "I didn’t know much, but neither did the board, and I passed."
He came to Texas in 1889 from Humboldt, Tenn., and first sold trees in Red River County. In 1894 he and his brother, Tom, worked land in Delta County as sharecroppers.
"We worked a widow’s land that fall," he recalled. "And when the crop was in I got half of what we made and half of the widow’s daughters. I married one of them."
After working two years at Enloe, Texas, he went to Louisville, KY in 1897 to study dentistry. Later that same year, he was driving over the muddy, rural roads of North Texas in a buggy, hunting for prospective patients.
In 1899, Dr Mullins moved to Detroit, Texas, when a cousin notified him that the small town’s only dentist had died.
"I found that I could rent a house for $10 a month and office space for $3 a month. We decided it was a good move," he said.
Thirteen years ago, when he was 78, he moved to Clarksville so he could have some conveniences in his office—things like running water.
In his small office on E. Broadway in Clarksville, Dr. Mullins combines new dental techniques with the old.
"I still make a plaster impression like I used to 60 years ago," he said. "Dental progress has been wonderful, but I think some dentists rely on it too much. Some of these high-powered motors may be too strong."
When Dr. Mullins came out of dental school, a gold inlay had never been heard of. Neither had blocking a nerve.
"I had to learn that by just reading, or maybe practicing a little," he said.
Dr. Mullins was curious about the publication date of this very story.
"I may not be here if it’s too long away," he said.
And, considering his age, the reporter thought it was odd that he smiled.
But Dr. Mullins wasn’t talking about anything morbid. He was planning a trip in his car back to see his relatives in Tennessee. He and Mrs. Mullins—the second Mrs. Mullins—drive it almost every year.
No comments:
Post a Comment