In the 1960s, free-range babies were the norm. That was in the days before fetal ultrasound, amniocentesis, and fetal monitoring. Somehow babies were born without having a gender reveal party. In fact, some mothers chose to not even reveal their pregnancy until they could hardly walk. Delivery dates were chosen by Mother Nature rather than artificial induction. The pace of life was slower, but there were more surprises and more excitement. This is one of those stories.
The Rigby Maternity Hospital was open for about 20 years: from 1943 to 1963. The original building was built as a home by MK’s great-grandfather, Cyril Josiah Call. It was a large spacious home and easily converted into a maternity hospital. Ruth Fell ran the place and was a crackerjack nurse. Ruth had seen just about everything. She knew nonsense when she saw it and was a straight shooter. She bought the business in 1953 and lived in the basement with her family. The hospital was open for 20 years without any significant maternity outcomes to my knowledge. When the government regulators gave Ruth a list of required, but unaffordable modifications in 1963, she simply closed shop. I know of at least four people who wished she had not been forced to close — my father and his brother, Aldon, and Dick and Vonnie Lue Broulim.
Dick Broulim is my first cousin. His mother, Afton, was my father’s sister. Dick’s wife, Vonnie Lue Broulim, did all the heavy lifting in this story. Two things about Vonnie Lue Broulim — she is the best thing that ever happened to Dick and she is not the first woman to go into labor in January during an Idaho blizzard. My mother did the same thing while the Rigby Maternity Home was still open — that is the part where I came onto the scene. However, Dick and Vonnie Lue were not so fortunate. Drifting snow had closed US 20 north and south of Rigby on January 21, 1967, when Vonnie Lue called for help. “Uncle Asael, this is Vonnie Lue. I am in labor. What should I do?” When she told him her water had broken and the contractions were becoming more frequent, he told her to come to the clinic.
It was a Saturday, so the office was empty when Dad, Dick, and Vonnie Lue arrived at Tall Clinic, where babies were not usually delivered. Dick and Dad made a very good team, recognizing that this baby was not going to wait for anyone. Fortunately, with a few pushes, the baby entered this world without complications and expressed a strong opinion about being expelled from his comfortable environment. But wait, there was more! Ever vigilant, my father saw that another baby was rapidly following the first one. Surprise! He called Aldon on the phone and barked, as brothers do, “Quick! Get over here Aldon! I’m outnumbered! There’s two of ‘em.” He slammed down the phone and Aldon was on his way, arriving in time to help deliver the second baby. No nurses, no anesthesia, no complications — just Mother Nature and two lucky doctors doing their thing. And so it was that twin brothers delivered twin brothers during a blizzard in January at the Tall Clinic, in Rigby. Life finds a way.
But wait! There’s more! Searching for a digital picture of the old Tall Clinic ended in frustration. What I found was a current picture of the building from Google Maps. You can see that the old Tall Clinic Building is now a vape shop, just down the street from Rigby Broulim’s in Rigby. What you don’t turn up when doing research for stories.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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