By Jean Schurman
How do you go about interviewing someone who has been at the center of almost every important, life changing aspect of your life? From broken limbs to the birth of the first my nephews and then my own children, to the deaths of my parents, Dr. Walker J. Ashcraft has been there, as he has for many, many families throughout the Bitterroot Valley. We always referred to him as ‘Doc’ and he was our go-to guy.
Doc was raised in Hot Springs, a small town off the beaten path in northwestern Montana. Coincidentally, this is where a large portion of my extended family lived and so he was familiar with the Jaques name. He said it was just one of many connections we have.
Growing up in Hot Springs, he worked in his family’s lumber yard and in the woods there. Hot Springs didn’t have a lot to offer and Doc realized that he wanted to do more. Dr. Matthias had a practice there in the town where he was the ‘town doctor’. He treated everyone for everything.
“That is what I aspired to be,” said Doc.
He ended up going to medical school in Salt Lake City. This was during the Vietnam War and rather than being drafted, he enlisted in the Air Force. He was sent to southern Spain for his active duty. There, he practiced medicine, doing what he envisioned practicing medicine would be like, treating everyone for everything. He was stationed there for three years. After that, he returned stateside and had planned on going back to his surgical residency in Salt Lake City.
But life has a funny way of happening. Dr. Matthias, who by now had moved to Hamilton and had a practice with Dr. Meis, called Doc up and asked him to come to Hamilton to help in his practice. Dr. Meis had died a few months previously and Matthias was needing more assistance.
“It was an ideal situation,” said Doc. “I was expected to do everything people wanted their doctors to do. And I thought Hamilton was the best place to live in Montana.”
Doc moved to Hamilton and settled into the practice. Within a year, his senior partner, Matthias, had moved on to the Peace Corps and Doc was now in charge.
It was right about this time that I first met Doc. A horse had fallen on me and messed up my foot. In his signature gruff, no nonsense voice, he told me that yes, my foot was sore and that I should maybe stay off it, and maybe stay off that horse, too. As he told me the other day, medicine was different then. There were no MRIs, or CAT scans, there were only X-rays and maybe EKGs.
“We had to rely upon either our knowledge or, if there was something in the abdomen, exploratory surgery,” says Doc.
His first office was at the corner of Bedford and Third in Hamilton. He was busy and soon took on a couple of associates but they didn’t last. In 1975, when the ‘new’ hospital was built, Doc moved to that location and took on another partner, Dr. John Moreland. A few years later, a couple more doctors – Ellis and Furman – set up their practice in the same building, sharing the same waiting room.
Throughout this time, Doc was right there with the patients, in the office and in the hospital. He would come to work early in the morning, make his rounds at the hospital and then head over to the clinic where he saw patients with everything from broken legs and pneumonia to those having babies and those whose time was limited. At noon he would head back to the hospital and then repeat the process in the afternoon and then return to the hospital. He worked seven days a week with only time off for a hunting trip or a Griz game. He was always a sports nut. (His nurse, Judith Norman, said she thought her interview with him may have been a question Doc asked about a pro football player.)
The changes in medicine have been many and as Doc speaks about the past 50 years, it’s obvious he looks not only at the advances in medicine but also the increases in costs to the patients and his concerns for his patients. He believes the local hospital is crucial to the local community.
“We’ve managed to keep it going through the lean times,” he said. “We have to expand and grow or we will be taken over by bigger corporations. This is the lifeblood to the valley.”
Doc served on the hospital board for 22 years and then took a break. He came back on and served another nine years. He is proud of Marcus Daly Memorial Hospital and the state of the art facility it has become.
After retirement, he plans on haying, ‘dropping a few trees’ and going to his sporting events. But he isn’t getting completely out of the medical field. He will continue to work for MDMH as the medical director of Hospice and will oversee the satellite clinics in Victor and Darby.
Doc will also spend more time with his wife, Charlene, who was one of the founders of the Bitterroot Pony Club. Their son, Paul, graduated from West Point and is now retired. They have three grandchildren. Tyler is a graduate of the University of Oregon and is a captain in the Army. Jacob is at West Point where he is working towards becoming a helicopter pilot. Emily is a nurse.
As I visited with Doc, I remembered many things he told me over the years. It really wasn’t until I watched him with my dad when he was sick that I saw how much he cared for his patients. But then I remembered him telling me how to handle different emergencies throughout my life and I knew, he had always cared, and still does.
Enjoy your retirement, Doc, you’ve earned it.