Squire White and Family
By Douglas Shepard
[The following stories appeared in the Barker Museum newsletter in the issues of Fall 1996, Winter 1995, Fall
1993, and Winter 1994, respectively.]
The Good Doctor White
Probably no one among our readership needs to be told that Dr. Squire White was our first physician. Being
first seems important, if not logically, at least psychologically, but outside of athletics, "first" is not always
"best." How good a doctor was Dr. Squire White ?
Before we try to answer that question fairly, we must understand the times in which he practiced. He began
studying medicine in 1800 and began his practice in Canadaway [later known as Fredonia] in 1809, which he
continued until his death in 1857.
What was the state of medicine when he began studying, and in his early years here, say 1800-1820? At that
time, the dominant theory of medical treatment was quite properly called "heroic."
From the Colonial period in America until well into the 19th-Century, there was little understanding of the
causes of disease and other ailments. Doctors based their treatment on a theory that similar outward symptoms
must have the same internal cause. For example, dizziness or faintness actually caused by a middle -ear infection,
a concussion, or a partially blocked carotid artery would all be diagnosed as the same malady, and treated in the
same way.
Since most of the root causes were not understood, treatment meant changing or getting rid of the symptoms.
The usual method was to purge the “system,” the patient’s body, of whatever was bad and then build it back up
with restorative tonics.
The purging or “cleansing” was usually arrived at by using emetics to induce violent vomiting, or cathartics,
strong laxatives. The substances used were themselves dangerous poisons and irritants. The other two standard
treatments were bleeding – to carry off the bad matter and any excess of blood that was causing the problem –
and blistering, applying strong irritants, which raised blisters on the skin surface. They could then be lanced to
drain off the bad matter drawn to the surface.
It is no wonder this kind of treatment is referred to as “heroic,”
meaning “extreme.” On the part of the practitioner and literally
“heroic” on the part of the patient.
We should keep in mind all of this and the following significant
facts: a simple stethoscope was not even described in print until
1819 (in French); about the same time percussion to test the state of
the lungs was only then being experimented with; and the connection between microorganisms and illnesses was not demonstrated by
Pasteur until 1857, the year that Dr. White died.
What this means is, that in considering Dr. Squire White as a
physician and surgeon, we must visualize him without most of the
instruments we normally think of a doctor as using, without any
proof of the causes of diseases and epidemics, without any understanding of antiseptics, and with no effective anesthesia. It is a revealing coincidence on the state of medicine against which Dr.
White is to be measured, that on the day before he died, the Fredonia Censor noted in its necrology column the deaths in Dunkirk
from scarlet fever of Arthilla, 7, Eliza, 5, and Eugene , 3, the children of Thomas and Elizabeth Francis .
In turning to consider our first physician, we are faced with another dilemma. How much do we know about him and where does
that information come from?
The basic source for his “biography” is an anonymous obituary in
the Fredonia Censor greatly added to by Addison Cushing in
The Squire White family row of
gravesites at Pioneer Cemetery
the Fredonia Censor greatly added to by Addison Cushing in a talk he gave before the Fredonia Scientific and
Historical Association on March 2, 1864. In addition, there are random reminiscences and comments that appeared in the newspapers during his lifetime as well as after.
In outline, this is what the biographical sketch looked like: Squire White was born in Guilford, Vermont,
on 20 November 1785, the youngest of nine children. When he was about ten years old the family moved to
Bainbridge, Chenango County, New York, where he had what was called "a good, but not collegiate education."
Around 1800, he began to study medicine with his elder brother, Dr. Asa White, in Sherburn, New York,
and continued those studies for nearly three years. (It was very common at the time for young men to
"apprentice" in this way rather than going to one of the very few medical schools then existing in the country.)
If he began in 1800, he would have been barely 15, (his brother was 28), and under 18 when he had finished.
On May 2, 1805 he received his license to practice physic and surgery from the Chenango County Medical
Society. He was then 19 years old. Rather than setting up practice, however, he chose to continue his studies
with Dr. Joseph White of Cherry Valley "at that time one of the most celebrated physicians and surgeons in
this State." He studied with this Dr. White for part of a year and, Cushing's biography says, "for three succeeding winters, he attended medical lectures in New York City." Miss Elizabeth Crocker, in Yesterdays II,
26, adds that he "graduated from the medical department of the new Columbia University of New York."
Columbia, which began as Kings College in 1754, had established its School of Medicine in 1767, so it
would seem that Dr. Squire White had a very thorough grounding in his professional education, as an
"apprentice" working with more experienced doctors, and as a student at an established, well-respected medical
school of his time.
Our sources seem to agree that Squire White came to Canadaway in the fall of 1808. Cushing's wording is
that "having acquired his profession, and attained majority, the young physician left the county of Chenango."
Having learned as much as others could teach him and having passed his 21st birthday, he was ready to strike
out on his own.
After serving as schoolmaster -- between calls -- through the 1808-1809 season in Sheridan, he came to
Canadaway, where he established his practice. In 1813 he married Sally, daughter of the Hezekiah Barkers .
She died only ten years later. In 1826 he married Zattu Cushing's daughter, the widowed Lydia Houghton.
This made him a relative by marriage to Addison Cushing, who was, years later, to prepare the biography we
have used.
Cushing summed up Dr. White's professional qualifications this way: "As a Physician, his conduct of a case
was extremely cautious and discriminating, assiduity and patience untiring, his determination to save invinc ible, and most frequently victorious.” The editor of the Fredonia Advertiser remarked that "In his profession he
early became distinguished for his clear perceptions and skillful treatment, and secured an extensive practice.”
His early mentor, Dr. White of Cherry Valley, often referred to his former pupil's "high attainments and
sound medical judgement," and Squire White's obituary as well as Cushing’s biographical sketch make clear
that he built up a very large practice "of which his numerous friends would never permit him to divest himself.
We have never heard a man express regret for having entrusted the life of himself or family to his care, but
have often heard those bereaved of friends express their sorrow that they had not had the seasonable benefit of
his services.”
It would seem from the evidence that professionals and lay people alike found our first doctor to also be the
best. As his obituary summed it up: No better eulogium could be pronounced upon him than the often repeated
expression which followed his remains to the grave, -- that society had lost an honest man, and the poor a
friend.
Further Tales of Dr. Squire White
While communities on the Eastern seaboard are being snowed in and medics are having difficulties reaching
those in need, perhaps it is a good time to remember Fredonia's doctors of earlier times. Doctors such as
Squire White often had only a horse with which to cross miles of bad roads in the winter to reach their patients. Many reminiscencers gratefully remembered the good doctor's efforts to reach and aid their loved ones;
others apparently did not hold his efforts at much.
About the year 1812, in a tempest of rain and hail, Dr. White was called to visit a person taken ill suddenly.
The patient lived near the mouth of Canadaway Creek. The doctor immediately obeyed the summons. Months
after, his recovered patient called to pay Dr. White for his services that night. Dr. White said the fee was ten shillings ($1.00). When the patient thought he was being charged too much, Dr. White responded: “Well, if you think
so I will tell you how you can pay me very easily. Let the matter rest until next December. The first cold rainy
night in that month, you get out of your bed at midnight, go to your barn and saddle your horse, and ride up to my
house and call me up, so I may know you are there in person, and I will give you a receipt in full.”
Dr. White was not only a devoted doctor, but also a devoted fan of Sir Walter Scott. Indeed he named his first
daughter by his second wife, Ellen Douglass, after the heroine in "The Lady of the Lake". Franklin Cushing , his
second wife's half-brother, and a fun-loving young man of ready wit, nicknamed the White home "Branksome
Hall" after the family mansion in Scott's "The Lay of the Last Minstrel". Frank who had a gift for acting and mimicry, had read and memorized much of the literature of the day, including the work of Byron and Sir Walter
Scott. His brother, Addison, recounts an insistance of Frank baiting the bear in his own den. At a Christmas gathering at "Branksome Hall," knowing of Squire White's preference for Scott, Frank claimed Byron's superiority
over him. The doctor stood up for his favorite, and pronounced Byron 'crazy'. The combatants brought forward the
usual arguments pro and con, both drawing copiously from the authors they defended. Dr. White, teary-eyed, recited passages from among other things the pathetic and touching narrative of "The Lady of the Lake":
Some feelings are to mortals given,
With less of earth in them than heaven;
And if there be a human tear
From passion's dross refined and clear
A tear so limpid and so meek,
It would not stain an Angel's cheek,
'Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter's head;
And as the Douglass to his breast
His darling Ellen closely pressed
Such holy drops her tresses steeped,
Though 'twas a hero's eyes that weeped.
The allusion to the Douglass daughter, [for whom Ellen was named] touched the responsive chord of association in his adversary's [Frank's ] heart. Quick as thought Frank replied, in the exquisite and familiar lines of
Byron, addressed to his daughter:
My daughter, with thy name this song begun;
My daughter, with thy name thus much shall end.
I see thee not -- I hear thee not -- but none
Can be so wrapt in thee: thou art the friend
To whom the shadows of far years extend.
Albeit my brow thou never shouldst behold,
My voice shall with thy future visions blend,
And reach into thy heart, when mine is cold -A token and a tone even from thy father's mould,
To aid thy mind's development -- to watch
Thy dawn of little joys -- to sit and see
Almost thy very growth -- to view thee catch
Knowledge of objects -- wonders yet to thee.
To hold thee lightly on the gentle knee,
And print on thy soft cheek a parents kiss -This, it should seem, was not reserved for me;
Yet this was in my nature -- as it is,
I know not what is there, yet something like to this.
And from the mountains where I now respire,
Fain would I waft such blessing on thee,
As with a sigh I deem thou might'st have been to me.
When the recitation ceased, the big tear drops were coursing in a flood down the old man's cheeks. “Now,
what do you say to that,” cried Frank, triumphantly. Dr. White, while his lips yet quivered with emotions excited by the verse, “didn't think it amounted to much.”
Did our heroes have clay feet?
Anyone who deals with matters historical tends to feel a certain awe for those who went before us -- the giants of our past: founders, pioneers, leaders. Walk around the Barker Historical Museum and look at their
solemn faces often in ornate gilt frames: benevolent Squire White, severe Leverett Barker, quizzical Henry
Frisbee.
What we often forget is that many of those who are now only, revered memories were once young, foolish
and very, very human. As preliminary to the tales to follow, let us remember that, for example, Squire White
began to work among us when he was just 24, Leverett Barker, 22, and Henry Frisbee had just reached the
advanced age of 20.
There is a story told of gentle, benevolent, absent-minded Squire White -- as he became -- when he was first
making his way here, stopping first to study with another Dr. White , of Cherry Valley. Squire White rode
up just as old Dr. White was leaving to see a patient, so they rode along together discussing whether young
White would be permitted to study with old White for a time.
"But soon," as A.C. Cushing recounted years later, "they struck the universal theme of politics. The old
Doctor was a 'Bucktail,’ the student a 'Clintonian',’ terms by which the rival political parties in the State were
then nicknamed. The controversy speedily grew warm. In that old-fashioned period, country politicians dealt
very plainly, and denounced each other in terms which would now no doubt be quite shocking to ears accustomed to the polite circumlocution and distinguished toleration practiced at the present day.
“As they wound their way along the wild and narrow path, by the blazed trees, which then every where
marked the settler's way, the green-wood arches rung with Bucktail's loud invective and Clintonian's sharp rejoinder. The controversy deepened and waxed hot, until patient and business were alike forgotten, by both the
wordy combatants. Still Bucktail would never lower his flag, nor Clintonian yield a whit -- not so much as the
north-east side of a hair.
“Finally the old Doctor, provoked beyond measure at the pertinacity of his opponent, or more probably, at
his youthful presumption towards his senior, lost his temper, and challenged our hero to alight and settle the
dispute by democratic blows and knocks. No sooner said than done. The young athlete sprung from his horse
ready for the fray. But better thoughts overcame them. Perchance the quiet and solemn aspect of nature assuaged their rage.
“At any rate, without coming to blows, they remounted and pursued their way. Soon, however, they recurred
to the previous theme, this time, if possible, with more asperity and zeal. Bucktail, pushed at length to the saddle-bow, lost all patience. He sprung to the ground, and defied his adversary in fight 'to prove his doctrine orthodox.' Clintonian was no laggard. His youthful blood boiled to support his cherished cause. He leaped to
seek his taunting foe.
“They closed, they tugged, they wrestled, they shook one another, until Clintonian's facts and Bucktail's
teeth rattled like a pair of castinets in a show. Suddenly having shaken some little sense into their heads, they
both perceived the ludicrous situation in which they were, and the folly of their behavior. Whereupon both
blew a truce, and remounting, rode on to the place where the patient lay.”
We are happy to report that all thereafter went well between the two. However, this is not the only example
of very human behavior of some of those revered folks of our past. In later issues, look for accounts of courting, revenge, and the Parson's diarrheic chickens!
"Christmas Eve In Branksome Hall"
The poem of this title was published as a small 63-page pamphlet in Brooklyn, NY in 1879. It was written by
Ellen Douglass, daughter of Dr. Squire White and his second wife, Lydia. With the author's permission, the
Censor printed it in its entirety as the poem which traditionally appeared on the front page of the Censor in an
issue close to Christmas Day.
"Branksome Hall" is the name given to Squire White's large, frame house by his wife Lydia's half-brother
Franklin Cushing ("Uncle Frank"). [Since the first few families of early Canadaway landowners interma rried,] gathered at Christmas in Branksome Hall were at least some members of the Cushing, White, Barker,
Houghton, and Stevens families.
Now, what about "Branksome Hall"? Dr. Squire White came to Fredonia, then known as Canadaway, in
1808 or 1809. He may have lived in the log cabin that had been occupied by Joy Handy Sr., where White
would later build his new home. At any rate, in 1812 he began putting up a frame house, probably building
onto the log cabin, at today's 52 East Main Street, The White Inn.
Tradition says it was the first frame home completed in the Village. Unfortunately, the assessment rolls show
no entries for Squire White until 1814. He married Sally Barker in 1813, so it is possible he was building his
new home while his father-in-law took care of the tax payments.
The Whites had four children between 1814 & 1823: William, Devillo, Julia and Edwin. Shortly after
Edwin's birth, Sally Barker White died. In the same year that Squire White and Sally Barker had been married, Zattu Cushing's daughter Lydia married Daniel Sterne Houghton, brother of Jacob Houghton. Daniel
and Lydia also had three children: Laurence , Martha and Henrietta between 1815 and 1822. They moved
from Fredonia to Vicksburg, MS early in their marriage, and it was there that Daniel Houghton died in August, 1825.
The young widow and her children returned to Fredonia, where, one year later, Lydia Cushing Houghton
married widower Dr. Squire White . Edwin White had died in June 1825, so that Dr. White brought two sons
and a daughter to the marriage, Mrs. Houghton, two daughters and a son.
Dr. White and Lydia had three children together: Ellen, George and Mary between 1827 and 1832. It is
Ellen, Ellen Douglass, as Dr. White named her, who wrote this Christmas poem. With Lydia's marriage, her
half-brothers Franklin and Addison, became very much a part of the White household.
The poem about the family home, which had been moved back on the lot and replaced by a large brick house
in 1868, is dedicated "To My Mother", that is Lydia Cushing Houghton White, in 1879 a venerable 81. For a
time she lived with Ellen in Brooklyn, so the poem may have been written and published there as a Christmas
gift and remembrance while she was still in Ellen's household.
The headnote in the Censor says that these are "recollections of our early home". How early? What date can
we put on the scenes being depicted? The best guess is somewhere around 1840, although Ellen has used some
poetic license. On that Christmas Eve in the past, Ellen remembers, there the family were: father and mother,
sister and brother, that is, Squire White and Lydia, and the children "Ellen, George, Mary". Little Mary was
born in 1832 and died in February 1841, so the scene can be no later than Christmas Eve 1840.
The arriving uncles "Ad and Frank" are, of course, Lydia's young half-brothers, Addison and Franklin
Cushing. By 1840 Addison was 20, Frank 15.
The next scene in Ellen's poem is the arrival of "the Academy teachers". In 1840 that could have meant
Charles H. Palmer, Principal and teacher in mathematics; Frederic A. Redington, teacher in languages;
Miss Margaret L. Baldwin, Principal of the Female Department and teacher in French; Mrs. Sarah DaLee,
teacher in drawing and painting; and Margaret A. Devlin, teacher in music.
In too come the neighbors, wives and children. That probably included the Dr. Walworth family, next-door
neighbors. Dr. Walworth's sister was the Mrs. DaLee who taught the young ladies drawing and painting.
As the sounds of jollity increase, a messenger arrives to take Dr. White to the bedside of a sick child ten
miles away, over bad roads through the wintry night. Without hesitation, the doctor goes, exactly the behavior
described by many reminiscencers.
After this brief interruption, the hostess, Lydia White, calls on her stepdaughter Julia to recite a tale of
chivalry. The rather grim tale is greeted with the politeness of "kindly words." Then to counteract the sadness
of Julia's tale, the cry goes up for a song. After some mock urging, Hettie , with Will's help, sings her song.
Hettie is probably Ellen's half-sister Henrietta and Will her step-brother William, since Hettie says to "each
honored guest," "for you we've wreathed the walls about" suggesting she is family not visitor.
At that point, the mother asks all to remember a family member far in the sunny south, clearly a reference to
Ellen's half-brother, Sterne Houghton who had returned to Vicksburg to practice law.
We then catch a glimpse of Uncle Frank Cushing telling the men some joke perhaps best kept from the
ladies. With her sister Mary, Ellen checks on the little ones in the sitting room only to find Eva and Belle ,
perhaps two of the hired girls, dressed up like witches. To Aunt Ellen the children run for protection, and
Clayton asks for a story, something about St. Nicholas or Robin Hood. (Clayton is C. F. Edwards , young
brother of F. S. Edwards , who had married Ellen's step-sister, Julia just two months before this Christmas
1840 celebration).
What Ellen does is hark back to a Christmas Eve of her childhood just ten years earlier, that is around
1830, and this is where the poetic license comes in. In the sleigh are bundled Ellen, her sister Mary and
brother George , plus the Stevens cousins. Lydia Cushing's sister Catherine had married Philo H. Stevens in 1827. Walter and young Philo were born in 1829 and 1830. Another Stevens brother Edward,
who is not mentioned here, was not born until 1833. Lucy, who may be a hired girl is sent along to see to
the children. There is no "Lucy" among the Stevens , Cushing or Houghton clans.
Aunt Lucinda is Lydia's older sister, who was married to William Barker. They lived in Sheridan, as
Ellen says, "on the great road to the East," that is Main Street, today's Route 20.
It is an exercise in imagination to drive today over the same route, from the corner of White Street east,
seeing the frozen, snow-packed dirt road, the few and scattered farmhouses along the way, the gnarled
chestnut trees and the thickets of hemlocks, as they drive up the hill past the not yet 25-year old burying
ground, then on east over the Pomfret line into Sheridan, past School House No. 8, and turning to the
right somewhere out by South Roberts Road.
After a tumble in the snow, they draw up to the Barker home, greeted by the hired man and the maids,
with Aunt Lucinda watching from the window. Inside the welcoming home is Uncle William in his armchair reading the Albany Journal. (There were two of that name. This is probably the one that had begun
publication in March 1830 as the Albany Evening Journal.)
The main room is warmed by a roaring blaze beneath the great stone chimney. A large winter fire always
had a giant back-log to guarantee a long-lasting, hot fire and partly to reflect some of the heat out into the
room, with the "fore-stick" to encourage the fire to burn. The pine knots, of course, were particularly fla mmable and helped the larger pieces to ignite.
The Charles who is mentioned is Ellen's cousin, Walter and Lucinda Barker's son, born in 1829, so
once again we find poetic license overtaking literal fact. If he told them "of adventures by sea and by
land,” it was at a time in the future when he was somewhat older. However, there is no mention of his
brother, Bradley, born in 1834.
After the game and stories and maple sugar, with the storm howling outside, Aunt Lucinda decrees that
all are to sleep over. Ellen has a vivid memory of that curly-maple canopied bed in which she slept many
times. As she studies the pictures on the patterned chintz side curtains, she falls asleep and has a strange
dream of the death of St. Nicholas -- at which point Aunt Lucinda wakes her for breakfast.
And then we are back at Branksome Hall. An unidentified Herbert comments on the Christmas tree,
and Houghton (Douglass Houghton Stevens , 5 ½ years old in 1840) makes clear he knew it was a dream
all along. These little ones are now put to bed and the older folks go on into the kitchen where Ellen's
brother George is carving a jack-o-lantern. Stepbrother Devillo comes in from the stables, bundled against
the cold. He's been out faithfully seeing that the livestock have their feed.
The account of young Patsy Bloom is as much as is known. No Bloom or Blum family appears in the
usual records, including those at the County Poor House. We learn too that there is a cat, unnamed, and a
dog, Caper. The two Maries seem to be hired girls helping Norah the cook. With the children asleep, all is
quiet and serene. In the stillness can be heard the horn signal that the mail stage, on sleigh runners for the
snow-covered roads, is coming down the hill from the east, heading for Abell's Inn on the Common. (A
mail-carrying line had been established between Buffalo and Erie by 1821. Thomas G. Abell was one of
the partners in such a line, beginning in the 1830s, and the coach used his inn, of course, as a stage stop.)
Inside Branksome Hall, the grownups are enjoying a quieter time at cards, two playing chess, others debating politics including the sensitive subject of slavery and its abolition. In the group playing Old Maid,
Ellen's half-sister Martha has just won the dubious prize, (in fact, she was to marry William F. Wheeler
in 1844), when Norah enters with the midnight snacks. While the older folks sip their cider, the younger
ones eat the sweets used as prizes in the game called Philopenas ("friendly forfeit") in which the double kernel
of a walnut was often the prize.
At last the hour comes, Merry Christmas is said by the guests as they depart, and Branksome Hall is once
again silent and asleep. With a last little editorial contrasting the purity of those days with the complexities of
her time, Ellen Douglass sums it all up:
And here my truthful tale I end
Of the good old-fashioned times -Of the early ways and customs
Told in plain, old-fashioned rhymes.
And here we end our tale as well, wishing you all the joys of this holiday season.
[The White Inn is operated today at the site of Branksome Hall in Fredonia. The full text of the Branksome
Hall poem by Ellen Dougla ss White Quetting may be found in the Barker Historical Museum, Fredonia, NY.]