September 5, 1935-Dr. Dafoe Longs for Peace, He Says — but Don’t Believe Him
The Washington Daily News — Thursday, September 5, 1935
Dr. Dafoe Longs for Peace, He Says — but Don’t Believe Him
By ERNIE PYLE
CALLANDER, Ont. — Doc Dafoe says he never had much ambition anyway, so he just stayed around this place for 27 years, and doctored people without getting very much pay for it, and read books and I reckon had a medium good time.
And then one cold night along came the Dionne quintuplets and pop, that quickly, Doc Dafoe was just like Lindbergh—he had his picture and name in the papers all over the world, and he took trips, and people kept pestering him and his phone rang all the time.
“How do you like it? Do you wish it all had never happened?” I asked.“Well, I’d like a little more peace,” he said. “A little more peace.”
But I know the Doc will pardon me if I say he’s a liar, in a nice way, because I think he’s having the time of his life, and wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world. He’s a man that’s just built to take things easy and enjoy himself.
His front door bell rang. “I suppose it’s some more of those damn bums wanting to shake hands.” It was. Tourists from California. But he doesn’t think they’re bums at all. He just says that.“They mean all right,” he says. “It makes them happy to go back home and say they shook hands, and I can take it.” Sure, he can take it. He sits right there in his office and he’ll be there when they come. He loves it.
A lot of them who haven’t nerve enough just to walk up and bust in, arrive simulating all kinds of ailments, such as sniffles and sore toes. The Doc fixes them up and shakes hands and tells them to come back again. When they say “Be sure and look us up when you come to Springfield,” he says “I’ll sure do that.”
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Dr. Allan Roy Dafoe is the man who brought the quintuplets into the world and kept them alive. He is their official doctor, and one of their three official guardians.
He is very short, he has a long head (in more ways than one), with short gray hair on top. He smokes a pipe, and he’ll take a drink, altho he thinks the young people drink too much. He is as sharp as a tack, and not only that, he’s really a learned man without being the least bit grave about it.
Up in this country there isn’t anybody much you can talk to if you don’t want to talk gossip, so he has just been reading books for 27 years. Three sides of his office are lined to the ceiling with books, and he has a big library in back.
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He goes out to see the quintuplets every morning. And he phones out several times a day. He never leaves town for very long, and he never leaves unless the babies are just right. And even then he keeps in touch with the nurses every day by phone.
He thinks it’s nice the way millions of Americans come up here to see the youngsters. He hopes even more will come next year.
He has had to give up most of his practice, since the quintuplets take all his time. But he doesn’t care. His patients never paid him anyway.
His wife died 10 years ago, and his 18-year-old son goes to college, so he lives here alone. He has a housekeeper. His office is in his house, which is a small brick affair with a wooden wing. When the phone rings he answers it himself.
He gets along fine with the two other guardians—one a cabinet member, one a judge. He lets them do all the contract-making and bookkeeping. But he knows what’s going on, don’t you worry about that.
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And the people around Callander and North Bay, what do they think of it all?
Well, they aren’t very excited about the babies. Very few of the local people have even gone to see them. They intend to, some day, but they’re so close at hand and “you just keep putting it off till next week.”
And what do they think about the Doc? He’s just a country doctor, and a pretty smart one at that, and he didn’t get the big-head over it either, they say.
The man with the bucket who washes windshields of parked cars out at the hospital says: “The Doc’s all right. He stopped and picked me up on the way out here this morning.”
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