By Marie Hughes, Joan McAnall and Sheryl Shaw
The Texas pioneer doctors serving the Texas frontier during the 1800s were a great source of hope for early settlers, as towns were widespread and hospitals were rare indeed. Many were self-taught, gaining hard-earned knowledge through mail-order medical books and their personal successes and failures. Some fledgling doctors were lucky enough to find a doctor to study under.
Chambers County was blessed to have Dr. Nicholas Schilling, a highly respected doctor in our area who received a formal education before arriving in Texas. Regardless of his educational status, he never elevated himself above his neighbors, but was known by all for his humility and benevolence.
Born in Bavaria, Germany, in 1845, he moved to America, settling in Maryland when he was just a baby. After serving in the Maryland Cavalry, he attended Chicago Medical College (now Northwestern University Medical School), receiving his Doctor of Medicine degree in 1872. In 1874, he relocated to Texas.
His practice was centered mostly in Cedar Bayou and West Chambers County. He always sported a goatee beard, and local children described him as looking like Santa Claus, with the exception of the black patch he always wore over his blinded eye.
The poorest of his patients received the same concerned care as the wealthiest, accepting produce as his fee from those unable to pay, and sometimes just a home-cooked meal. Others paid by doing odd jobs like chopping firewood or mending fences.
A True General Practitioner
Possibly one of the finest and most complete examples of the workings of the medical profession during the late 1800s and early 1900s is preserved for future generations in the original office building of Dr. Nicholas Schilling, now located in Anahuac.
Schilling was a typical doctor of his day, diagnosing his patients without the benefits of now-available testing techniques and treating them with medicines he concocted in his own laboratory. According to Schilling’s records, he treated between three and twelve patients daily, some in his two-story pine and cypress clinic located on the Chambers County banks of Cedar Bayou and others in their homes, to which he traveled on horseback. Some of these excursions took the doctor to what were then considered somewhat far away communities, including Mont Belvieu and Sheldon.
Schilling, a native of Bavaria, Germany, was born in 1845. When he was about three months old, his parents moved the family to the United States, eventually settling in Maryland. As a young man, Schilling enlisted in the Union Army in 1864 as a shoemaker, serving until he was discharged the next year, according to W. Everett Dupuy, a Houston attorney and nephew of the pioneer doctor.
Based on communications between Dupuy and the Chambers County Historical Commission, there is little information regarding Schilling’s life in the years immediately following the Civil War, except that most of his family moved to Iowa and Illinois, where many of the Schilling family still live today.
In about 1872, he graduated with a Doctor of Medicine degree from Chicago Medical College, the present-day Northwestern University Medical School. According to correspondence from Dupuy, shortly before his 1874 move to Cedar Bayou, Schilling suffered the loss of an eye as the result of a hunting accident and was jilted by a girl he had been engaged to marry.
Lacking the money necessary to set up his medical practice upon his arrival, Schilling worked in a Cedar Bayou brickyard. He continued doing menial labor until his medical skills were “discovered” by area residents when he doctored someone hurt in an accident. Schilling first practiced medicine out of the back of a local store.
In 1883, Dr. Schilling married Linna Gaillard, whose brother, John, owned land in the Goose Creek oil field. Linna Gaillard Schilling taught school at Barbers Hill in 1880. She and Dr. Schilling had two children, John Gaillard Schilling (1885–1954) and Annie Schilling (1887–1966).
John followed in his father’s footsteps and became a doctor, graduating from Galveston Medical School in 1909. He worked alongside his father until 1917 before moving to Houston, where he was a well-known physician and surgeon.
Linna considered it her duty and responsibility to remain at home whenever her husband was tending to patients. She acted as his secretary, advising patients who came in search of him of his whereabouts when he was making a house call. If patients had traveled a great distance, she would provide lodging for them in her home so they could be close at hand when the doctor returned.
She entertained many patients at her dinner table if they were there during mealtime. She was a kindly, good person who raised chickens on the Schilling land, sold eggs, churned butter, and delighted the family with her special fruitcakes on holidays.
The Schilling home was built on the west bank of Cedar Bayou, just across from the Masonic Cemetery, and for a while the home also served as the doctor’s office until 1890, when he built a separate building for use as an office near his home.
The doctor practiced in the office until his death in 1919. For several years prior to and after Schilling’s death, his only son, John, also a doctor, worked in and out of the Cedar Bayou office.
After Mrs. Schilling’s death in 1923, the couple’s daughter, Annie, continued to live in the home and is given credit for preserving her father’s office building and its contents, which include medical journals of his day, instruments, and bottle after bottle of the medicines prescribed by Schilling to his patients.
After the 1966 death of Annie Schilling, the doctor’s office was donated by Schilling heirs to Chambers County. The building was soon thereafter moved by barge to Anahuac, where it is located near the county courthouse.
Today, a Houston Lighting & Power Co. facility is located where the doctor treated the area’s sick. Among his patients was the renowned Dr. Ashbel Smith.
Included in news accounts about the office’s transport to Anahuac are testimonies of the doctor’s kind heart and gentle nature.
“He was just a good-hearted old fellow—wonderful,” J. B. Gourlay said at the time of the building’s move.
Gourlay, who was 85 years old at the time, said Schilling had been like a father to him. When the doctor became sick in 1919, Gourlay said he stayed with him at the side of his deathbed.
Other reports recount that Schilling often was paid for his services with a hot meal, a basket of vegetables, or maybe fruit.
Have Satchel, Will Travel
Dr. Schilling treated patients, fitted eyeglasses, dispensed medicines, pulled teeth, performed surgeries, and served as the local veterinarian. He delivered over 1,000 babies during his practice years and treated many of the prominent families of the community.
Among the recordings in his journal are the death of Dr. Ashbel Smith at his home in Evergreen on January 21, 1886, and family births of Fishers, Garrett Scotts, Simmons, Mitchells, Gaillards, Kilgores, Joneses, Tabbs, Gilettes, and many more.
He was busy about 14 hours every day. When it was necessary to make house calls, Dr. Schilling did so by horseback when the roads were bad, and when they were good he used a one-horse gig or a two-seated buggy.
Schilling filled his office with the latest in medical technology, subscribed to medical journals, used his microscope to do blood smears, and stocked his pharmacy with opium, quinine, belladonna, and strychnine.
Many of the medical books used by Schilling can be found at the Historic Schilling Office Building in Anahuac, next to the Historic Chambers House. Records the doctor kept on his patients, their reported symptoms, as well as his prescribed treatments, are being preserved by the county’s historical commission.
Stacks of medical journals subscribed to by Schilling, indicating he kept up with all the latest advances, have also been saved. He treated dreaded diseases such as malaria, typhoid fever, tuberculosis, measles, and pneumonia.
The story is told of an old friend he worked with at the brickyard showing up one day with his wife and five children. Dr. Schilling hadn’t seen his friend, Joe Walters, in 30 years, as Joe moved 15 miles northwest to Sheldon right after marrying. That was a pretty long drive in a horse and buggy in those days.
Joe made the long buggy drive because he was worried about his family’s health and knew his good friend, Dr. Schilling, was the best around. Dr. Schilling took them into his clinic and, after his examination, told Joe he believed they had malaria.
He mixed up some medicine that was supposed to cure malaria and sent Joe back to Sheldon, telling him he would travel to their place in the morning to check on them. That is exactly what Dr. Schilling did, because that’s the kind of doctor and person he enjoyed being.
“The old man knew he wouldn’t get a penny,” said J. B. Gourlay 65 years later. “He knew he might get dinner, but not a penny!”
Schilling office gets place of prominence
Annie Schilling, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Nicholas Schilling, continued to live in her parent’s home after their death until she sold it to the Houston Lighting and Power Company. The sale made it necessary to move the old doctor’s office building or have it torn down. Unwilling to see the old office that housed their family legacy destroyed, the Schilling heirs donated it to the Chambers County Historical Commission in 1967.
Guy C. Jackson, chairman of the Historical Survey Committee, was the ramrod of the relocation of the office. At his request, the Chambers County Commissioner’s Court agreed to designate a site for the historic office on County property near the Chambers County Library in close proximity to the historic Chambers Home.
Moving the building was no easy task and took the combined efforts of the Sid Desormeaux House Moving Service and Southwest Towing Company, both of Anahuac. Desormeaux’s crew jacked up the old one and one-half story cypress board and batten building near the banks of Cedar Bayou and placed it on a roller frame. It was then rolled onto the steel barge anchored nearby on the banks of Cedar Bayou. Thus began the slow two-hour water journey across Trinity Bay and up the Trinity River Channel to the docks at the Anahuac landing. The next morning, power and telephone lines were repositioned to make way for the historic doctor’s office as it journeyed uphill from the shell docks to its final home.
The moving expenses were covered by the Schilling Estate with the Anahuac Historical Commission covering the cost of refurbishing the old office. The building came complete with all the furnishings of the old doctor’s office including his meticulously kept notebooks with writings dating back to lectures during his days in medical school. Also included was his collection of medical journals, surgical instruments, and myriads of medicine bottles. One special treasure was a tattered 48-star U.S. flag which was the official flag from 1912 to January 1959.
Amid the ever-changing landscape, with construction of the new justice center looming in the background, the historic 1900s office of Doctor Nicholas T. Schilling stands as a reminder of a time when care was personal, journeys were made by horse and buggy, and physicians’ dedication helped shape the very foundation of the community.
Ovvie Franssen – A Century of Memories
Ovvie Green Franssen of Old River-Winfree celebrated her 100th birthday with a reception at the community center on Sunday, March 8. The guest of honor arrived in style, riding in a refurbished 1920s Model A.
About 100 guests enjoyed the elegantly decorated pink-and-gold-themed party. An assortment of treats filled the dessert table, with a multi-tiered cake at its center. A lunch buffet along one wall offered a variety of snacks.
District 23 State Representative Terri Leo Wilson presented a personal birthday greeting to Ovvie from Texas Governor and Mrs. Greg Abbott, along with a proclamation in her honor from the Texas House.
At an interview in December with the Chambers County Historical Commission, Ovvie shared a bit of her history. Ovvie was born in her parents’ home on March 4, 1926, in Stilson, Texas, a few miles west of Dayton on Highway 90.
Originally established as a shipping station along the Texas and New Orleans Railroad, Stilson had a population of about 75 people in 1910, dropping to about 25 in 1920.
Her mother was Grover Kay of the Dayton area, who married Edgar Green, a family whose roots ran deep in Old River. Mr. Green had 11 siblings, and the Green homestead was “just up the road” from the Franssen property on which Ovvie still lives.
Ovvie’s family moved to Old River when she was 2 years old. She and her two sisters, Blanche and Gladys, enjoyed a simple childhood. In those days, Old River was wide open fields. If you didn’t want cows in your yard, you had to build a fence.
Ovvie and Blanche spent most of their days outside, sharing a bicycle; one rode on the seat, the other on the handlebars. There was no bridge yet, so to cross the river, the girls biked across using the ferry.
Christmas celebrations centered around a bountiful harvest; there was always plenty of food. The family tilled a spring and a winter garden and had a cow for fresh milk, butter, and cream. Pigs rooted in their pens, and chickens, turkeys, and guineas were always scratching in the yard.
Berries, figs, and pears were preserved to be available all year. To decorate the Christmas tree, each girl brought home from school a colorful paper chain, which they strung together and looped across the tree. By saving tin foil from inside Hershey bars and gum, the girls were able to wrap horse apples and hang the shiny homemade decorations from their tree with string.
Besides the treasured bicycle they shared, they entertained themselves cutting paper dolls from the Sears catalog. At Christmas, the sisters would wish for a little tea set for their dolls.
Being self-sufficient was a necessity in those days. Her family not only canned vegetables and fruits, but preserved sausage and bacon. There was no electricity or refrigeration, so when hogs were butchered, her mother would render the fat and store it in a stone crock.
Sausage was then cut into strips and fried just a bit before her mother pushed the meat down into the stored grease. The meat could then be spooned out of the crock and fully fried as needed.
Her parents’ house was once totally destroyed by a fire, and it is possible, she thinks, that the disaster could have been connected to the grease, but they never knew for sure.
Three generations of Franssens graduated from Barbers Hill ISD—Ovvie in 1944, daughter Kathy in 1973, and granddaughter Keisha in 1995. Ovvie remembers the original small wooden school building, a steep contrast to the sprawling, modern brick campuses that have sprung up since.
Every grade had its own room, and the curriculum was basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. She also took Home Economics in high school and was a proud member of the Barbers Hill drum line.
While dressing for school one morning, she remembers her family gathering around the radio as President Roosevelt made a frightening announcement: Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor.
As a young teen, Ovvie said she wasn’t sure where Pearl Harbor was, so as far as she knew, the Japanese could bomb them next. It was a frightening time. Many local boys were drafted or joined the service.
War preparation included local “blackout drills.” A siren would blare in Mt. Belvieu as a signal for everyone to turn out all lights. Mr. Traverso, who owned a store at the time, would walk down the streets and make sure all lights were off.
The Barbers Hill trip to the Fort Worth Stock Show was a highlight of her school days, because the drum line marched in the parade. Ovvie played the cymbals first, then the bass drum. She also remembers how cold it was in those short drum line skirts.
She graduated from Barbers Hill High School in 1944, and in 1945 married Ellis Franssen, the grandson of another Old River-Winfree pioneer, Hugo Franssen. After exchanging vows in the Methodist parsonage at Mont Belvieu, the newlyweds took a trip to Galveston for their “honeymoon.”
After living in a Mont Belvieu apartment for a few months, the couple moved in with his mother at “the old Franssen place” when she needed a caretaker. Ovvie and Ellis had one child, Kathy Franssen, who retired from Exxon-Mobil and now serves as mayor of Old River-Winfree.
Ellis raised some cattle, worked for the Old River Canal Company, and relied on odd jobs when available. A work accident caused him to lose vision in one eye, and his hearing was impaired after a shotgun blast fired too closely to his ear during a duck hunt.
Their first television was a black-and-white set that was popular with friends because wrestling was televised every Friday night, and all would gather at the Franssen house to cheer for their favorites.
Times were simpler then, and neighbors knew each other, so it was not unusual for the little boy down the street to walk to Ovvie and Ellis’ house on Friday night all by himself to join in the fun. When the wrestling ended, the little boy walked home alone.
One night after the Franssens had gone to bed, they heard a banging on the door. It was the little boy’s father, saying the child had never come home. No one was very worried, because they all knew he was safe “somewhere with someone.”
The next day, they found out the child had been offered a ride by a local man who was on his way to Dayton to drink at a bar. After the bar closed, the man dutifully took the little boy home to his frantic parents—a story that could have had a frightening ending in modern times but was barely newsworthy then.
Ovvie remembers the assassination of President Kennedy as well, but the moon landing was more vividly ingrained because her husband had been in a serious tractor accident, and at the time of the broadcast he was in the hospital, so they watched it from the hospital waiting room.
After her husband died, Ovvie started babysitting and became a “second mom” to many area children. She has sewn many intricate prom dresses, “bridal gowns, and bridesmaid dresses by the dozens.”
She states, “I’ve sewn everything from satin to burlap.” The Pilot Club once hired her to create “Mr. Potato Head” costumes for an entire program. Ovvie said the most difficult costume to make was E.T. the alien, big stuffed head and all.
Ovvie still has a sharp mind and mows her own yard. When asked for the secret to longevity, Ovvie responded easily, “Dig in the dirt. You have to dig in the dirt every day.”
At age 100, Ovvie reminds us that a life rooted in service and a love of the land does more than pass time; it nourishes both soil and soul. Happy birthday, Ovvie Franssen, and we wish you many more.