Medical & Science:
The then-named Shriners Burns Institute in Galveston accepted its first patients in 1966.
This story ran in the Houston Chronicle’s Sunday magazine on Nov. 6, 1966. The words and headlines are reprinted as they ran then.
They tell you at the Shriners Burns Institute in Galveston that a new patient is being flown in. A small boy. Being piloted by his own father. From Baton Rouge, La.
You speed to the airport, to where an ambulance is waiting. Some men stand around, including a member of the hospital’s administrative staff, who has helped with arrangements. It’s a windy hot afternoon and the sky is spotless blue.
The plane grows out of the distance, circles the field noiselessly, lands and taxis near. A Piper Comanche. A nurse gets out, gray, tired-face, followed by the pilot, a stocky man in glasses. A boy, wrapped in a sheet, is gently lifted from the plane and placed on a stretcher. He whimpers once. Then his dark eyes dart around, taking in all the spectators. You can see where the flames had licked up to his face.
The father and nurse ride with him to the hospital. But they are not allowed in the treatment room, where he’s to be examined and cleansed, with all his clothing and bandages removed. The boy cries out” “Daddy, don’t leave me,” as he’s wheeled in.
You talk with the father, Otis T. Forbes who owns the Fiesta Motel in Baton Rouge. He’s a soft-voiced man, is impressed with his first view of the hospital. He tells about his 6-year-old son, Otis Jr., who is better known as “Lil Dude.”
The child and two other boys, cool in swim trunks, where watching TV in the storage room next to the motel’s pool. They were laughing and cheering at the cowboy action on the screen when make-believe suddenly became real-life fury. A drum of chlorine exploded, rocked the storage room with flames and smoke.
The boys staggered out, unharmed. But then Lil Dude remembered that his white kitten was somewhere in the place. He hesitated a moment, then ducked back through the flames. He groped, couldn’t find the kitten. He fought his way into the open again, leaped into the pool. This probably saved his life.
Doctors said he suffered more than 50 percent burns, 25 percent of them third degree.
“We had my boy in Baton Rouge hospital for a few days,” says Forbes. “But they didn’t have the facilities to treat such cases. I was told about this Shriners Burns Institute —that they use the most modern techniques here. That’s one reason I wanted to get him here.”
He contacted a Baton Rouge Shriner, who became the sponsor of the child. This is the usual procedure. The child’s doctor then phones the Institute’s chief surgeon, Dr. Duane Larson, gives him the medical history and asks if there’s a bed available. The Shriner sponsor then makes all arrangements, including transportation, which is usually by plane, and then hospital is notified of time of arrival so an ambulance will be waiting.
In this case Forbes furnished his own plane. His hobby is flying. As he tells about it, the nurse Nannie Mae Dykes, keeps nodding her head and looking motherly. She mumbles something about Lil Dude being such a brave boy.
Another case, another bed. Lil Dude’s admission brought the number of patients to 20. As many as 30 can be handled.
You find out that two other Burns Institutes, at Cincinnati and Boston, are to be completed by the Shrine of North America, at a cost of nearly $4 million each. The Institutes, which join the Shriners’ 19 orthopedic units, are dedicated to the treatment of burns in children under 15—regardless of race, color or religion—whose parents or guardians are unable to pay for treatments.
Funds to operate them come from annual assessments of each Shriner, voluntary contributions and money raised through temple activities. Parts of the proceeds from the Shrine Circuses go for this purpose. The Arabia Shrine Circus in Houston is now thrilling audiences at the coliseum, will continue through next Sunday.
The hospital at Galveston accepted its first patients in April. Boys and girls with severe burns, usually caused by carelessness in the homes. Many are saved from crippling effects, are able to return to a normal life again.
A good example is a 10-year-old boy who was admitted to the Shrine hospital seven months after being burned in a gasoline fire.
His previous doctor has suggested amputation of his leg. The boy underwent grafting procedures as well as release and graft of the scar contractures. His leg was saved.
Some of the reconstruction cases need prosthetics as well as skin grafts. The hospital medical sculptor, Joseph Paderewski, shows you a prosthetic ear. Made of silicon rubber and tinted, it looks like the real thing. It’s put on by adhesive in the morning, taken off at night.
Superior care is provided through use of specially designed equipment for operating and therapy procedures. And there’s a big competent staff, numbering about 125. This includes surgeons, nurses, clerical, laboratory and research workers.
Administrator R.L. Innes is particularly proud of the research program, Dr. M. C. Goodall, director of research, constantly probes for ways to improve the treatment of all types of burns.
“We also keep a photographic record of each patient,” Innes says. “This is to help us check on his progress and for teaching purposes. Through our affiliation with the University of Texas Medical Branch we carry on an extensive teaching program for medical and nursing students on the care and treatment of burns.”
You find out many things about this hospital, about its work to save children’s lives and restore their bodies. And you are pleased to hear what the doctor says after an early examination of the little boy from Baton Rouge.
Successfully skin grafting is the prospect. Then the boy would be placed in traction apparatus to prevent development of scar contractions of arms and legs.
“We hope he’ll be released within a few weeks,” the doctor says.