“Uncle Claude would grab his hat and curved pipe and say, ‘C’mon Ellis, let’s go,’” Tinsley says. From the age of 12, Tinsley understood his uncle’s importance to the community. “I thought what he did was one of the most impor-tant things that anyone could do in this world. If they wanted to pay, well, then that was good, and if they couldn’t he would write it down in his little book and they would never hear of it again,” he says. 36 WBM january 2014 Because his hometown had 800 residents and only two doctors, Tinsley’s uncle was kept very busy, especially because there were no hospitals within a reasonable distance. This meant that the country doctors would do everything from giving medicine for the flu to removing an inflamed appendix or delivering a baby — all in the patient’s home. “If he was going to see someone with the flu he’d pack a pipe with a twist of tobacco and say, ‘Ellis, if you’re going to go in, you’re going to have to go in with a big cloud of smoke.’ Often I wouldn’t go in with him, I would wait out in the car.” Left: Tinsley on his first round of house calls with his uncle whose car appears in the background. Below: Vanderbilt University college portrait.
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