There are some special people in this world for whom righting a wrong is an innate behavior.
In the fall of 1941, my mother Virginia White enrolled at Temple University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The school’s health policy mandated that all students have annual dental examinations. She was referred by the school to a Colored dentist.
He was handsome, tall, light-skinned, and impeccably dressed. He picked her up at school and drove her to his office in his new Chevrolet convertible. "I’m sorry; Miss White, but you have six rotted teeth. They can't be filled and will have to be extracted."
This was a surprise since she had always brushed her teeth religiously. But having never seen a dentist before, she believed him. And, unfamiliar with second opinions, she consented to the extractions. Turned out it was a big city scam perpetrated against young girls from the country who had never seen a dentist before. He had made a fortune yanking teeth from Colored girls at Temple.
In the summer of 1958, the late Dr. Harry Chapman DDS, practicing in the old Masonic Temple on Locust Street in Dover, New Hampshire, examined her remaining teeth. When he completed his exam, he was furious.
"Virginia, your uppers are the least likely candidates for rot. The fact that he took them sequentially from your upper jaw is because they were the easiest to extract. Your remaining teeth are beautiful. There is absolutely no evidence of rot in any of your remaining teeth.
"This is a crime, Virginia. It was only 17 years ago, so he’s very likely still practicing. What was his name? I went to school with some fellows on the dentistry board in Philadelphia. When they hear about this, they'll revoke his license to practice."
"No, Dr. Chapman, it’s done. I’ve got four children and Harold’s at sea. I just don’t have the time to go through with it."
Dr. Chapman was enraged. He shook his head and cursed under his breath. His wife, his hygienist, sat quietly. The color drained from her face. He asked her to order a plate for Mom.
"Dr. Chapman, I can’t afford it."
"Virginia, I am offended and disgusted by what that ‘son of a…’. He stopped because I was sitting there. I was only five years old at the time.
"…what that ‘man’ did to you. I can’t even call him a dentist. This is an affront to my profession. It has to be made right. Don't worry about it. Pay me when you can."
The plate arrived several weeks later. On the way home from the office, Mom stopped to buy groceries at Marcotte’s Market in Newmarket. Bill Crafts, the butcher, had once asked Mom why she never bought good steaks. She told him.
Today she said, "Bill! I got my plate!"
"Really, Virginia, I'm so happy for you! Let me find you something special." He was grinning from ear to ear as he went back to the meat locker.
That night, we kids had chuck steak. And as usual, we ate like wolves. Mom, on the other hand, ate slowly with her eyes closed. A smile adorned her face as she savored every bite.
In the late summer of 1958, Virginia Ward enjoyed her first sirloin steak since 1941.
The Ward family extends our sincerest thanks to the late Dr. Harry Chapman DDS and Mr. William "Bill" Crafts of Marcotte’s Market, who, collectively, to borrow a quote from Star Trek, "made it so."
Michael Cameron Ward grew up in Lee, graduated from Oyster River High School and UNH. He is a retired software engineer and author of the book series "Sketches of Lee." The views expressed are those of the writer. He lives in Lee and can be contacted at SketchesofLee.com
The Link LonkAugust 22, 2020 at 08:48PM
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Opinion/Ward: A sirloin steak - Seacoastonline.com
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