MEDICAL PRACTICE IN OTAGO AND SOUTHLAND IN THE EARLY DAYS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3488, 18 January 1921, Page 53

MEDICAL PRACTICE IN OTAGO AND SOUTHLAND IN THE EARLY DAYS.

By Robert Valpy Felton, M.D. XLVI.—WILLIAM PANTON GRIGOR, OF INVERCARGILL. Invercargill in 1860 was yet a mere village, and what is now the town area was “Wgely covered with thick pine busti, flax, swampy creeks, muddy holes, bridle tracks, and ditches. The discovery of SP* d, here as elsewhere, worked a miracle, thousands of people arrived, lingered a few days, and passed on to the diggings. The town, much canvas and scantling, quickly attracted a great number of doctors; many people brought money, everybody spent it easily; fortunate digge- s came back from the different rushes with their little “shammy bags” full—easy come easy go,—and while many of the practitioners were well qualified physicians and surgeons, others were half-edu-cated quacks, ready to take down the’r neighbours by pretending to know everything, and as quick to fleece them at cards by rigging a thimble. So they came, *' nd o' l they went to the Wakatipu, to the Dunstan, and to the West Coast. In the first two years of the goldfields somewhere about 20 doctors alighted—one could not call it settled—in the town, advertised freely, gathered where they had not strawed, and, spreading their pinions, shook the dust off them, to use a mixed metaphor, and gaily flew oil again to more promising resting places, whei'3 they could glean the grains of Pactolus with as little labour as possible. In Invercargill was the bubble soon burst, the boom quickly over, and the town quiet ened down from a hive of about 15,000 persons to as many hundreds; scores of houses with their windows and doors boarded up, the place veritably empty, the streets deserted, and, from disuse, worse than before. Well might the proEhet have cried, “Murihiku, thy glory as departed.” Early in 1861 came to the town William Pan ton Grigor, an active, hard-working, vigorous young Scotsman, who settled down to the arduous life of a city general practitioner; swerved not to the rignt hand nor the left, night and dav, year in year out, he served the people of Invercargill of a period of half a century. He had been educated at the Edinburgh School of Medicine, taking the L.R.C.S.E. in 1859, and he came to New Zealand at the age of 22. Hearing that there was a place called Invercargill where there was an opening for a doctor, he thought lie would give it a trial, but he found thac. the only means of getting there was by boat or by bullock waggon, and as he had neither, and did not like riding even if he could have got a horse, he resolved to walk, and off he set. Roads, so called, stopped at Popotunoa (now Clinton), and from there on he followed a plough furrow through the tussocks to Menzies’ Ferry. The journey took him a week, but, as he used to say, when once he got there he never shifted. He had a vast experience in the early days, and must have rubbed shoulders with “a great many practitioners. He acquired a large amount of common sense and much of the art and practise of medicine, so that when he got to middle age and was one of the seniors in the profession he was looked on as perhaps rather old-fashioned, but very sound, most punctilious in speech and manner, always immaculately dressed, and though he devoted most of his energies to the practise of his profession, he always kept a close eye upon the politics of his town and country, and was well up in current events. He was extremely popular among all classes of the community for his sterling integrity and trustworthiness, as well as for his kindness and generosity. He was a man of fine artistic culture and tastes, and an uncommonly interesting raconteur of his observations and experiences of the early days, always observant, humorous, and kindly critical of men and things. One of the younger generation of doctors who remembers him well tells us that he differentiated the seasons by wearing a black bell-topper m winter and a grey one in summer, and the inhabitants never knew that summer had really set in until they saw Dr Grigor in his grey hat. Jtie was very conservative, and had no time for surgery or surgeons, and often deplored “Dr Challoner’s” impulsiveness and free use of the knife. He believed that when once a diagnosis of internal malisrnant disease was made the patient should be to’d of it, and opium given, but no attempt made to pro long life with the knife. He had a large and lucrative obstetric practice, which he retained as long as he was physically fit for it. In March, 1861, lie advertised as physician and accoucheur, living at Burns’s Private Hotel, and here his sister, Mrs Archibald, kept house for him and looked after him. He latex moved to Tav street, next door to Mr Goodwillie’s. The first mention of him in the papers of the time is an account, from the Southern News. April 27. 1861. of an accident to John Holmes, who was engaged in the lightering service, and while getting a boat out of the Pnni Creek his oar slipped and he fell forward unon his head, and died in a few hours of fracture of the spine. He was attended by Drs Grigor and M‘Cl lire. Invercargill was sti’l STrrrmmcled. and even partly covered, by thick kahfkatea or whitepine bush, and in this and the undergrowth the native birds flourished exceedingly. Shooting kakas and pigeons took place at, all times and seasons, and many were the remonstrances from some of the more sober minded when “hang hang” on Sunday mornings disturbed the church goers ; so close were the shots that they eonid almost smell the nowder. Correspondents begged them to shoe! on Saturdavs. and gave temperate warnings that, while all the residents were not hu sh men, they at

least desired a little respect for the Sabbath day; others, feeling more sore, threatened that if the Sunday shooters did not mend their ways, they would find themselves before the resident magistrate, who would explain that sporting on Sunday is not sanctioned by English law, particularly when practised within town boundaries. The streets were in a prinn tive state, and the Town Board* as elsewhere, were severely criticised for all desiderata of bridges, pavements, paths, etc. They received great opprobrium for the condition of the Puni Creek bridge along the line of the track from the Royal Hotel to the Bluff road, a bridge which did good service when first erected. This was before the Clyde street bridge gave • second outlet to the south. The bridge complained of was in a frightful condition, and, being full of holes and very shaky, was quite unsafe for persons crossing after dark. The clamourers pointed out that a very little money expended upon this locality would prove a good investment, for most of the Puni Flat was at that time unbuilt upon, and the streets existed only on paper; several bridges over the Puni to the east of -Clyde street, and construction of the streets, would soon bring increased population to that spot. In 1862 the Great North road was still a morass in parts, and was patched and made even more dangerous for horsemen by the corduroy stretches. The streets were unlighted," and, with holes and ditches everywhere, many an unfortunate jovial homecomer found sudden rest where he at least expected or desired it. Showing the primitive condition of some of the buildings and the discomfort experienced even by the “grave and Teverend seignurs” who controlled the destiny of the new-born province, a local in ' the Southern News of October 20, 1862, referred to the shrunken weather-boarding of the southern end of the building m which the Provincial Council held their sittings, and that although the massive silver gilt candelabrum diffused a fine ray of respectability upon the scene, lighting tile features of Mr Speaker, in front of whom it had been placed, when the southerly buster struck the end of the house the flames dashed furiously about and splattered showers of melted tallow over the clothes of some of the Honourable Members. After a few such experiences Mr Speaker directed that the candelabrum be removed. Dr Grigor tramped baci? and forth over the swampy tracks out to the far-lying houses, where he spent many an anxious night, patient, considerate, and kindly to everyone ; this man, who toiled in the district for nigh on 50 years, has none" so mindful of him as to" even lend us a photograph. A pen picture from one of the oldest residents describes him is a man of middle height and spare figure, delicate rather than robust in appearance, though he carried himself well; he had sandy-coloured hair, beard, whiskers, ana moustache, which in later life became white, His eyes were blue, and he always wore spectacles. He dressed very neatly, fiis regular out-door attire being a black coat, white waistcoat, grey trousers, silk hat, well-polished boots, and black necktie. He always wore dark gloves, and carried either an umbrella or walking-stick. His voice and manner were particularly gentle and quiet. He was a good type of the old-fashioned “family physician,” and was much liked and esteemed. He did not lay himself out for country practice; he was not fond of riding, and therefore had no adventurous journeys, like Dr Monckton had in the early days. Dr Grigor acted as House Surgeon of the Hospital for some time, and then shared the work with Dr Deck, and between them they attended t-o the Hospital, Gaol, and the Lunatic Asylum. Many and varied were the experiences and adventures of Dr Grigor, and it is our great regret that he did not leave on record some of the vast store of knowledge which he had accumulated. From various persons we have gathered anecdotes of Southland doctors which we have been rather diffident of using lest we hurt the feelings of surviving friends and relatives. We here interpolate one or two, as Dr Grigor is the last person whom they could fit. On one occasion the doctor, who was in his way a bit of a wag, was rather annoyed with a. well-to-do farmer who owed him £2O, and had neglected or refused for several years to take the slightest notice of requests for settlement. The farmer was a great shooting man, and the doctor was also a bit of a sport, so that when they met in the middle of a very muddy road or track bordering a fine “shooting preserve” of miles of thick swamp, it was natural for the doctor to hail the farmer, “Hey, Mac! What have you got there, man? Are those shovellers? By Jove, yes!” Leaning out of his trap, and holding out his hand. The sport, who had three fine spoonbill and twice as many grey ducks all tied bv the necks with flax, as was the mode, lifted them up, and the doctor sagely weighed them up and down in his hand, nodding his head, then, leaning over the side of the trap and grasping bis reins tightly iy the other hand, “Yes, yes! Spoonbill, by Jove! And nice and plump loo.” He then heaved them over the side of bis trap, dropped them coolly upon the floor, and drove off without another word, leav ing Mactavish standing open-mouthed looking at him. “If I can’t get his money T can at least have his ducks,” he sail to someone on telling the yarn. Another time he had to go to the Bluff Heads to examine a ship that came in. He was acting health and port officer for someone on holidav. and he, too. as was his wont, had been celebrating the holiday with a glass or two of strong waters. The first thing he did was to demand to see the diplomas of the ship’s surgeon. This was a hit of a staggerer and quite unusual, but after a lot of trouble and searching and turning out of boxes the surgeon pro duced his documents, which had been issued by the Glasgow University or Faculty. The more sight of these made the port officer furious. He threw the parchment vigorously aeross the cabin and told the owner, with a string of oaths,

that it was not worth a blank, and not of as much value as the stuff it was written upon. He then left the ship. A few days afterwards the indignant Glasgow man got as “fou” as possible at the Bobbie Burns Hotel, and sallied forth looking for the too critical port officer. He found him, gave him a merciless thrashing, arid left him in such a condition tliat one of his colleagues had several weeks’ attendance as the result. As a matter of fact, this particular story is one tliat. Dr Grigor used to enjoy telling id all the quaint, dry humorous way he bad, and his stories always had the merit of being truthful, a merit or fault which is not found in all storytellers.

Mr Charles Rilstone, who came to Invercargill in 1862 in the little schooner Jane, detailed some interesting notes of what the place was like to a Southland paper lately. There is no heading to the scrap we have lead sent to us, so must apologise for using it without acknowledg merit. Mr Rilstone landed at the Invercargill jetty and made his way up Dee street, nearly getting bogged on the way. He got a job with a brother who was working at Button’s Brewery in Spey street, and they camped for some time in a tent about opposite where the weignbridge is now. The turning of the first sod of the Bluff-W inton railway was a great occasion. At that time there were large flax bushes growing where the railway station is to-day. To get to the Bluff was a bit of a business. The four-horse coach in which Rilstone travelled broke down about lralf-way, and some of the passengers went back with the driver -o get a new conveyance, while the rest toiled manfully "through the absolute morass which was dignified with the name of the coach road. Across the creek m Invercargill, where the Gardens are now, was at tliat time covered with thick flax, and further on untouched bush where the South School is now situated. Rilstone knew the Black Doctor well. He had a shanty in Dee street on the right-hand south side of Leet street. His shack was built on a leaning tree, which acted as a ridge, and the place was built of bags and other stuff that he had picked up. To see him coming down the street one would think that he was a lord or a half-pay officer, for he was tall, wore a. bell-topper, and walked in a very stately fashion. He generally amused the youngsters by flying kites for their benefit.

Dr Grigor worked on steadily, and his name appears from time to time in accounts of inquests and accidents. He did most of his work on foot, or for the outlying parts hired a trap as occasion demanded. He gave lengthy evidence in a case in which the house surgeon and coroner, Dr M'Clure, was severely censured for refusing to admit a patient to the Hospital, and in that evidence showed that his recent training in Edinburgh had included the use of the stethoscope, although it was then in what might still be called its trial stage, and obviously tile same inquest makes it clear that such training had not been the fortune of all the provincial surgeons. The Southland News of 13th January, 1872, advertises that Dr Grigor will take charge of Dr M'Clure’s practice while he is away in Melbourne, and in November, 1873, a local says that “Dr Grigor has purchased that fine marine property Spencer Island in Bluff Harbour, of 50 acres, and that he intends to make it into a sanitorium. ” There are many other references to tire subject of our article, but we can only conclude by saying that he was a most honourable practitioner, who served Invercargill long and faithfully. Trained in the days when antiseptics were unknown, and anaesthetics handled with extreme care, no clinical thermometer, and treatment by bleeding, blistering, and leeching the commonest and most fashionable way of treating what was called “ a pleurisy ” or a “pulinonitis,” his skill was undoubted and his success remarkable. At this time the wooden stethoscope was used, and was still looked upon by some of the old school as a new-fangled toy, much as the telephone of the seventies, the two jam tins with parchment ends and silk thread was thought a useless scientific plaything, though it really was the forerunner of the marvel of to-day : and the zoetrope, or wheel of life, which we spun by hand and looked through the slots at the changing moving figures carried * the real germ of the marvellous kinematograph of modern times. Dr Grigor was one of the. old school, and he laid down his burden full of years and honour after a strenuous life of toil for others. He was loved and respected by the inhabitants of the city which had grown with him during the course of haif a century, from a village of huts ’midst swamp and hush, to a noble city of stately buildings, magnificent streets, and beautiful surroundings, a city second to none in the. Southern Hemisphere, as an example of what will yet be “the City Beautiful.” Dr Grigor was a staunch member of the Invercargill First Church, known in its earlv days as the Scotch Church. He died at Taldora. Invercargill, on the 28th May, 1909, aged 71 years, and a. handsome monument was unveiled to his memory and to that of his son on Sunday, 12th October. 1919. in the First Church of the city. On the monument, in the old cemetery were engraved the appropriate words, “Peace, perfect peace.”