Ken Steinhoff in front of Dr. Charles T. Herbert’s office
A little white building that struck fear in my heart
Dr. Charles T. Herbert had an office in a small, white brick building at 824 Good Hope St., directly across from St. Francis Hospital. That was the place where my parents took me for all my vaccinations, school exams, Boy Scout camp physicals and for coughs and sniffles.
I was prone to sore throats, so I’d get hauled off to see Dr. Herbert and his nurse, Miss Mohr, several times a year. [Note: I originally spelled the name Moore, but consensus seems to be building that the correct spelling is Mohr. I'll make the change, but I'm wishy-washy enough to change it back if the tide turns.]
I’d sit on this table that was covered with something like waxed paper and wait my fate. Eventually, he’d bustle into the room with the scary reflector thing on his head and reach for the tongue depressor.
Open W-I-D-E, here comes the depressor
That tongue depressor was made out of an unsanded 2×4. After about a half an hour of peering this way and that way, making “Uh huh and Hmmmm” sounds, he’d reach into a glass container that looked like a malt glass and extract a 12-foot-long cotton swab that he’d dip into Mercurochrome.
Putting all his weight on the tongue depressor which has been sandpapering my tongue, he’d jam that swab so far down your throat that I thought my toenails would be coated red. Then, he’d work it around like he was churning butter.
To this day, I can’t eat a Popsicle or anything else on a wooden stick. Some folks cringe when they hear fingernails on a chalk board. I don’t know if a tongue can cringe, but that’s what happens when mine is confronted with a wooden stick of any kind. Shivers are going up and down my spine right now just thinking about it.
Out of the Past
There was a note in The Southeast Missourian’s Out of the Past Column on Sept. 3, 2009, that mentioned the office:
25 years ago: Sept. 3, 1984
Dr. John M. Freeze, Cape Girardeau dentist, has purchased one-half of a building at 2857 Independence St., from Dr. Charles T. Herbert, whose offices occupy the other half; Freeze is relocating his office to the new space.
My mother thought that Dr. Herbert moved to Florida after he retired.
Dr. Herbert’s office in 2001
So, what’s the story about Mercurochrome?
It dawned on me that I can’t remember the last time I saw a bottle of Mercurochrome. It used to be a staple in Boy Scout first aid kits for cuts and scrapes. My grandson, Malcolm, is a walking petri dish and a spreader of Plague, but I haven’t heard his parents mention him getting his throat swabbed.
Someone else had asked that very question, “What happened to Mercurochrome?”
You’re dating yourself, pops. Few under age 30 have ever heard of this stuff. In 1998, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration declared that Mercurochrome, generically known as merbromin, was “not generally recognized as safe and effective” as an over-the-counter antiseptic and forbade its sale across state lines. A few traditionalists complained: Whaddya mean, not generally recognized as safe? Moms have been daubing it on their kids’ owies since the Harding administration! But the more reasonable reaction was: It’s about time.
For many years the FDA, faced with the task of regulating thousands of pharmaceuticals and food additives, many of which long predated federal oversight, has maintained the so-called GRAS (generally recognized etc) list, originally compiled as a way of grandfathering in products like Mercurochrome that had been around for ages and hadn’t hurt or killed a noticeable number of people. Recognizing that from a scientific standpoint such a standard left a lot to be desired, the FDA has been whittling away at the unexamined products on the GRAS list over time. Mercurochrome and other drugs containing mercury came up for scrutiny as part of a general review of over-the-counter antiseptics that began in 1978, and for good reason–mercury in large enough doses is a poison that harms the brain, the kidneys, and developing fetuses. While no one’s offered evidence of mass Mercurochrome poisoning, the medical literature contains scattered reports of mercury toxicity due to use of the antiseptic, and these days the burden of proof is on drug manufacturers to show that their products’ benefits outweigh the risks.
I sure wish the FDA had come to that conclusion about 55 years ago and saved me from a lifetime of Popsicle deprivation.
Oh my gosh.
Dr Herbert was something else. I went to him when I was in 3rd grade. My dad noticed that I had turned in knees. On my visit to Dr Herbert, he took my shoes and twisted them and told my mom to get me a (explicitve) decent pair of shoes. I had to wear saddle oxfords with steel in them. I hated those shoes. I wetn to Franklin school at that time, I had my friends pull me down the blacktoped hill to try to wear them out!
I recall those 4ft wide, wooden sticks…and, if memory serves, he handed out one of those planks at visit’s end, dipped in some sort of molasses concoction that was supposed to be tasty….but, what I most recall about Dr. Herbert was that he made house-calls….talk about dating yourself!
Ditto to Ken and Rick. Dr. Charlie Tom Herbert spent his final years in and around the Big Bear area of Kentucky Lake, and was a close friend and fishing partner to Jack Baker who was owner and proprietor of the Moors resort in Benton, KY up to the late 1980′s. My deadly allergy to penicillin and any near derivative is, according to an allergist, probably derived from overdoses of penicillin during my early years. “The gift that keeps on giving.”
I missed the steel shoes, but I wore orthopedic shoes with inserts because I was slightly knock-kneed, as they called it back then.
Buster Brown shoes from a store down on Main Street. I was disappointed because my Mother wouldn’t let me stick my feet in the X-ray machine to see my toes.
I think that lasted until about the sixth grade.
I had forgotten Dr. Herbert’s colorful vocabulary. You’re right. His bedside manner was a bit brusque, to put it mildly.
I vaguely remember those “rewards” sticks, but I probably never licked one after he gave me my wooden stick phobia.
I don’t know if he ever made a house call to see me or my brothers. My parents both had transportation, so they probably just threw our bodies in the car and hauled us in. I feel safer thinking that maybe he didn’t know where I lived.
Upon further reflection; Can anyone identify the disinfectant cmell (carboilic acid?) which was used in C.T. Herbert’s office and waiting room? I can remember the whiff of aroma entering the front door as a distant early warning of dire things to come. That, kids, is Pavlov’s bell, the olfactory equivalent.
I can clearly remember walking up to Ms. Mohr’s sepulchral greeting, and then having to walk “The Green Mile” down that hall to the examining rooms (with the aforementioned waxed paper covering). White lab coats don’t do a lot for me, either!
I always thought Dr. Herbert was what the devil looked like. I was ill as a child so I spent many hours at Dr. Herbert,or Dr. Reynolds office. Miss Moore made those flavored tounge depresser at home. The health department would have a fit today.
Dr Herbert did have a very “colorful” vocabulary.I had taken my son into the office and just as I sat down Dr. Herbert called me back to his office.As I walked in Dr. said to the lady in his office I,d like you to meet one of my little shi-tasses. I could have fallen through the floor.
I always disliked a visit from or to the Dr.but both Herbert and Reynolds saved my life when I was about six
The throat swabb was made with iodine and glycern.
Thanks again for all the memories. It,s funny how even unpleasant things seem warm and fuzy as we get older..
jerrette
Pep calls Dr. Herbert’s nurse Miss Mohr; I spelled it like it sounded, “Moore.”
I suspect Pep may be right. Anyone want to set me straight?
Just a view of Dr. Herbert’s office immediately conjures up many memories; e.g., do we really have to go in? Ken, Pep is right; we believe the correct spelling is Miss Mohr. Rick is right, as well: Dr. Herbert did, in fact, make house calls. Mary says whenever she saw Dr. Herbert’s car pull up, she knew she was going to get a shot. My Mother used to tell of the time when someone was very sick, Larry, I, or both, and she had to “track down” Dr. Herbert at the country club. He was not of the same mindset re the severity of the situation and said he would see us the next day at his office. My mother suggested that if he couldn’t make it to the house, then she would bring us to the country club. Pouring on that southern charm it was … Now, now Mrs. Blitstein, no need to do that, I’ll be over. He did come by that night and I imagine his shots were given with great gusto, then!
Like many of us, we brought another generation of patients to Dr. Herbert notwithstanding that we never lived in Cape. When “home” for the 10-year reunion in Aug ’73 we took our daughter to Dr. Herbert, evidence is a check for $2 payable to Dr. C. T. Herbert, insurance co-pay, maybe? I found the check in Lori’s file, not certain why I kept it other than sentimental reasons, I guess.
We had heard that Dr. Herbert retired to Tallahassee, FL; maybe that was before Kentucky Lake, as Pep points out. Pep, you must have been well if you went in the front door; I remember the sign … Sick children use side door. I never could understand that, if you were well, you went in the front door, if sick, you used the side door, but didn’t we all wind up in or near the same place? And that smell! You’re right, Pep; obviously an antiseptic of some sort yet different from other offices.
While I have no aversion to popsicles, to this day I have great difficulty swallowing medication without food; wonder if the root cause could be gag reflex experiences with tongue depressors, caramel coated or not?
Ken, I think Buckner’s had an X-ray machine but are you talking about Gaylor’s Shoe Store on Main Street? They definitely sold Buster Brown shoes.
Thanks for another great trip down memory lane.
Chuck,
It’s funny that I don’t remember the Dr. Herbert office smell. Maybe I made a conscious effort to start shutting down all my senses as soon as we pulled up in front of the building.
GAYLOR’S. That’s the one.
Stick around. I found some pictures of a Fluoroscope machine that I’m going to post in a few minutes.
I remember the sign on the side door that was relegated to sick children only, but we were never sick enough to have to go through it.
I always thought that Dr. Herbert looked like a cross between Walt Disney and Walter Cronkite. Whenever we would go for a sore throat we would end up in his office and he would ask,”If you want to get better, then stop drinking that snot soup, blow your nose!” and we would of course assure him that would do exactly that.
Despite the stern appearance that Ms. Mohr presented, she diid have on of the best gardens in her backyard. She lived in a corner house on Independence and had a huge iris garden that could be seen from the road.
I also remember standing on the porch of Dr. Herbert’s office and watching all the hubbub across the street at the hospital when actor James Arness (Matt Dillion of Gunsmoke) came to town and visited the hospital.
I so enjoyed your pictures of Dr. Herbert’s office and the thoughts about him. He was our pediatrician also. How vividly I remember sitting in the waiting room agonizing over when I’d have to face Miss Moore(Mohr?) with her authoritative voice directing Mama and me to a room with the instruction,”Strip to the waist.” I don’t know which was worse…sitting on the table stripped to the waist waiting for his arrival or hearing the gruff comments that I knew were sure to follow. I think my mother was equally intimidated by Dr. Herbert. He once told my brother to call on his own when he was sick because my mother didn’t have enough sense to call before the illness was advanced.
My mother often told the story of how embarrassed she was when Miss Moore(Mohr?) offered me a molasses lollipop(made on a tongue depressor) and I said I’d rather have some candy corn. By the way, I believe that it was William rather than Independence where she lived.
When I was growing up, my parents owned the Idan-Ha Hotel. One night when I was in the lobby, who should I see coming in the door but Dr. Herbert!!!! I remember running and screaming through the lobby and the hallway to hide in the ladies’ room close to the Rainbow Room until my mother caught up to me and convinced me that he was not “coming to get me.” He was coming to attend a banquet or eat in the coffee shop, I guess, but the reason for his visit had nothing to do with my siblings or me. After this incident, Dr. Herbert called me “Fireball” whenever he saw me. He said that “Brenda” means “branded by fire” so he thought the name was fitting.
Do not misunderstand my childish fears. My family had much respect for Dr. Herbert’s medical expertise despite his less than pleasant bedside manner.
Many was the time that Dr. Herbert came to our home when my sister, brother, or I was sick, sometimes very late at night. When I was in the Fourth Grade I had a serious kidney disease. During that time, he came every day at first because I had to have a shot daily, then several times a week. He had given orders that I was to stay in bed with no physical activity other than getting up to go to the bathroom and no excitement, not even television. After a few days of this, Daddy took pity on me and brought home a portable television from the hotel for me to watch from my bed. Once Mama had to run upstairs to move the TV from my room when he arrived earlier than expected.
When I was doing my student teaching at the college Campus School, Dr. Herbert’s step-daughter was in my Fifth Grade class. I don’t know if his first wife died or if they were divorced.
Dr. Herbert was certainly a colorful character! I remember him fondly and with gratitude for the medical care we received.
Kenny, thank you so much for the work you do to find, post, and identify your pictures, and writing with such wit and familiarity. Your endeavor has afforded me many fond memories.
Ken,
You are bringing back soooo many memories with your fine writing and excellent photography!
Thank you.
Sheila
Sheila and Brenda,
I’m blushing. Thanks for the compliments.
Feel free to jump in and share your memories of Cape with the group. That’s what’s making it fun. To see if others remember things the same way that I did.
I still remember the time Dr. Herbert made a house call to see me about my chronic sore throat. Of course, the tongue depressors and Mercurochrome swabs were soon produced. After I bit off about 3 or 4 of those 2×4 depressors, my mom produced an old GI surplus steel mess-kit spoon to use to pry my recalcitrant mouth open. AfterI dented the spoon with my clenched teeth, Dr Herbert pronounced that if I was well enough to do that, I probably didn’t need my throat painted after all…. Guess you win one once in a while.
I found these “Dr. Herbert” comments/stories by accident trying to find out when he died. Does anyone remember the clowns in the exam room at the end of the hall? My 40 year old daughter still has a clown phobia. I am over 60 and was his patient as a child and took my 2 children to him until his retirement. I have enjoyed and chuckled at the comments, brought back old memories.
To clarify, Mrs. Mohr did live on William Street, she and Dr. Herbert were in the military together I believe.
He was colorful and a little unconventional but his practices worked for me and my kids. I still offer some of his “remedies” for my grandchildren.
What year did he die?
Here’s the obit that ran in The Southeast Missourian.
He died in Tallahassee, FL, Feb. 13, 1997, at his home. He was 87.
He started practice in Cape in 1937 and was a medical officer in North Africa in World War II. He retired in 1980.
I don’t have a clown phobia, but I’m not particularly fond of them. Maybe I’ve had better luck than your daughter at repressing those memories.
Linda,
I have an important update that may bring comfort to your daughter.
I was driving by Dr. Herbert’s office this afternoon (it’s been painted orange, by the way), when I saw a woman sitting outside the building. She said that she lived there. She didn’t seem to know a whole lot about the history of the building.
Just as I turned to leave, I asked if she had seen any pictures of clowns on the walls. She said that walls had been painted before they moved in.
The good news is that the clowns are gone.
The bad news is that they are still there, hiding, waiting for someone to strip off the paint that’s covering them.
Maybe you shouldn’t share that last thought with your paranoid daughter.
I too was a patient of Dr. Herbert. I am 67 years old and he also took care of my two children. I absolutely loved him but have since found out that is unusual. I didn’t like to have my throat “swabbed” but loved Dr. Herbert. Now, Mrs. Mohr was another story – I was really afraid of her. I later found out it was Mrs. Mohn that dipped his tongue depressors in caramel for all the children!
Dr. Herbert may have been “unconventional”, but I really think we could use more like him. He took the time to think about what ailed you rather than just run some “tests”…
I seem to recall that following years of using mercurochrome for sore throats, Dr. Herbert changed to use of silver iodide (also formerly used extensively in photography). It was truly awful stuff, but it did seem to clear up a sore throat in one application. Either that or I just lied about how much it hurt so that I didn’t have to get a second dose so soon after the first one.
Many years after my last encounter with Dr. Herbert, I developed an interest in architecture, especially the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright – prairie, arts and crafts, et al – and I always thought back to Dr. Herbert’s office (and the old Luedders photo studio after it moved farther west on Broadway, I think)…the built-in sofas/benches, the large tables. the use of glass blocks.
Thanks, Ken. Great stuff – obviously touching a lot of people.
Cory,
Are you talking about Leuder’s Studio at 427 Broadway, near the Rialto? That’s the only place I can remember it being.
I took a photo of the building back in the fall. I’ll dig it out and do a little more digging. I think I brought back one of my Dad’s scrapbooks that has pictures of Paul Leuders and my dad running around when they were in high school at Central. They were both members of what was called the Kodak Club.
After I heard that Mr. Leuders had died, I was concerned about what was going to happen to his treasure trove of Cape Girardeau pictures. He and Frony were the two people most responsible of documenting Cape for generations.
I was relieved to hear that his collection is at SEMO.
Leuders was the portrait photographer against whom I judged all others. He was a master technician and a genuinely nice guy.
I don’t mean to quibble about chemistry (that was best done in Mr. O’Loughlin’s class), but I’m informed by my mother (who ought to know, she drug me in to Dr. Herbert often enough) that it was silver nitrate that Dr. Herbert used. The stuff is extremely caustic and can be used to cauterize wounds. Gah. I gag at the memory…
I always assumed it was Mercurochrome because that’s what my mother used at home for throat swabbing. It smelled and tasted the same as Dr. Herbert’s elixir of pain. Her touch was about as deft at Dr. Herbert’s. Both of them had a sadistic streak when it came to sore throats.
Ahh, the snap of a rubber glove and the sight of a tongue depressor. Both are things better left unthought of.
Maybe I should start a Facebook fan page, “Did Dr. Herbert ever swab your throat?”
Well, I just finished off two yummy banana popsicles, thankfully before I re-visited your blog, Ken.
I must be confused between Herbert and Brunton. I thought it was Brunton’s wife was gave me on of those molasses covered sticks after I was walked in a trance by Brunton to the front area. Later, I thought it odd that, since I was told to cut back on candy that candy is the very thing I received from the dentist.
So, I got the candy stick from Herbert after all, and a got mercurochrome swabbings from him as well; nasty taste. The article you showed had an ironic statement, . . .”mercurochrome. . .hadn’t killed a noticeable number of people. . . .WELL, that is so reassuring; in other word, some people died from the poison, while others did not–well hot damn; we’re survivors. Where did people like this train, in the Nazi medical and dental camps??
We made it through our young years alive, however, with all the germs there were around, without Lysol wipes and sprays (which I do use extensively in my house). I do believe we “Boombers” are a tough bunch– survivors, achievers, and I am proud to be of the “Boomer Generation.”
I vaguely remember going to the doctor in that building in the late 60′s early 70′s. But I couldn’t remember who the doctor was. Growing up I remember going to Dr. Kinder in the Medical Arts building and he always heard cats in my ears.
AHA! Perhaps now I know the reason why I DO NOT LIKE CLOWNS! TO ME THEY BODE ILL; THEY ARE FRIGHTENING! Gee, thanks to memory too, Dr. H.!
Ken, not even Dr. Herbert and the 2 X 4′s can keep me away from banana popsicles, although, when I eat two (I cannot stop at one)now I think of your experience and shiver a bit. That passes, and I go ahead and finish off my two banana popsicles.
Sheila
Ah, Yes, then there is Dr. Kinder to whom I took my three children in their young years. Dr. “BOWTIE/MR. ROGERS & MR. CONSERVATIVE” Kinder. I remained about two weeks ahead of what Dr. Kinder told me to do. My kids were tired of just milk; they needed that milked-down rice cereal to suck out of an “Infafeeder,” and then they were happy campers!
Sheila
Ken,
You mentioned that now Dr. Herbert’s former office is painted orange. Actually, that orange paint is really layers of mercurochrome and iodine mixed to formulate an orange dye–quite gagging, actually.
Spooky to think that those damnable clowns are still under the painted walls. . .
Sheila