Dr. William Heber Humphreys 1919-2005
William Heber Humphreys was born in Llanfair Caereinion on December 29th 1919. His early childhood in the family home of Mount Einion would mark the beginning of an extraordinary journey through a long and eventful life in which he encountered every aspect of humanity. His chosen profession was medicine and after his training at Guys was interrupted by the outbreak of war he served in the Royal Navy as a Surgeon Lieutenant. It was whilst on a tour of duty that he met his future wife, Eve. After the war he decided to become a GP, joining Dr. Stewart in Montgomery. He would go on to spend the rest of his working life treating and caring for the people of the town and surrounding area, eventually leading the establishment of the modern NHS practice which still thrives today. He and Eve had four children who all grew up in Montgomery. It was the sincerity, empathy, compassion and good humour which he brought to his work, as well as his particular skills as a successful GP which inspired affection and respect in everyone he met. Before long he was known and warmly welcomed wherever he went and in return he dedicated his life to providing care and assistance to all who sought his help; and the problems were not always strictly medical. Over half a century of home visits and active participation in the community he came to possess a formidable, encyclopaedic, knowledge of the people, places and history of the area. His death, on February 19th 2005 has left an immeasurable void at the heart of Montgomery and, for very many people, will mark the end of an era.
Willie Heber, as he was known in his school reports, was a lively child with an instinct for adventure. Even at the age of three he was something of a free spirit, on one occasion burying all the family cutlery in the garden. It took several excavations before all Willie’s treasure was recovered. His father Charles Heber Humphreys and mother Elizabeth Theodore ran the family Drug and Grocery store in Llanfair Careinion. Growing up with five older siblings Bess, Ceris, Newman, Dora, Monica and a younger brother Winston, William clearly relished the licence his relative youth gave him to follow his mischievous streak into a world of boyish dares, pranks and assorted hi-jinks. He and friends would often risk reproach or worse swimming in the treacherous sections of the river Banwy. Several times they were the focus of general disdain for running around the 30 ft high walls of the church tower, defying death and delighting in their infamy. When he repeated this trick around the walls of Montgomery castle he got such a telling off from his parents that he was put off visiting the town again for some time. His bold, endlessly inquisitive nature combined with access to the various chemicals lying around the family shop and stock shed made amateur chemistry irresistible. During one abortive attempt to make plastic he accidentally set fire to the shed and his career as a chemist came to an abrupt end. The playful side to his character stayed with him throughout his adult life. As a father and eventually a grandfather, he felt strongly that children should enjoy the same freedom to play and follow their instincts that he so enjoyed as a boy.
He attended Llanfair Careinion primary and county schools until the age of 17. His school reports paint a picture of an intelligent boy with excellent academic potential but who is perhaps too interested in following his own curiosities for the rigour of academia. Biology was always his favourite subject allowing him to apply his fascination with how things work to living organisms. Given his abilities and inclinations as well as the druggist expertise in his family background, it would not have been a surprise when, in 1937 at the age of 17, he applied to train as a doctor at Guys Hospital in London.
When Guys invited him to an interview he had the confidence to inform them that, owing to the expense and difficulty of travelling to London for a single appointment, they would have to delay it until the first day of term. Such clarity of purpose and determination must have impressed the selectors and helped to convince them that the young man from Mid-Wales was shrewd enough to adapt to city life and the challenge of training in a busy London hospital. At that time it was a requirement that new trainees be proficient in at least two languages so it must be indicative of the potential the hospital saw in William that they allowed him to cite English as his second language, his first being Welsh. Having found his vocation, he launched into enthusiastic study and immersed himself in medic life. In a college dominated by rugby players he preferred football and was able to get into one of the Elevens. Living in a bustling city there were plenty of opportunities for mischief; in one memorable prank, he and his friends dismantled the Dean’s car before reassembling it on the roof of one of the medical buildings. According to one of his tutors who would eventually become a colleague, he was an excellent student and was easily in the top half of a large class.
His training took on a more serious and urgent tenor with the outbreak of the Second World War. Like the other young medical students of the time he was expected to take on far more responsibilities far earlier than usual as training was accelerated. William had perhaps the perfect temperament for such an intense and chaotic induction to medicine. In 1940 he found himself learning on the job, in one of London’s busiest hospitals, during the blitz. Adversity brings out the best in people and William Humphreys, who came of age and became a doctor during the most catastrophic war in human history, was made of the very best. Perhaps the most perilous of the many times he risked his life during the battle of Britain came on his 21st birthday. Rather than returning to his student digs in Blackheath after a long and exhausting shift on the wards he volunteered to spend the night running up and down the stairs of Hunts House moving boxes of vital medical supplies down to the basement where they would be safe from bombing. Later he recalled how at one point, he heard the terrible sound of a German incendiary bomb crashing through the roof and how he had scrambled desperately down the stairs expecting at any second to be engulfed by flames. Somehow the device failed to ignite despite bouncing down the main staircase and smashing through the front entrance and out into the street His survival that night was nothing short of miraculous. Before he left, he opened one of the boxes out of curiosity only to find it full of sanitary towels. When he returned to his home the following morning he found only rubble where the street had been.
In 1942, after five years of training, he joined the Navy as Surgeon Lieutenant. The first year of service was a frustrating one, spent stationed away from the action in the Orkneys. In 1943 however he was given a far more dangerous posting with a fleet of minesweeping vessels. Minesweeping operations were hazardous and there were many heart stopping moments when mines came too close for comfort. During his four years in the navy he circumnavigated the globe twice and visited many different countries in the Middle East and the Asia Pacific region. It was whilst he was stationed in the south pacific that he and another officer were asked to join the captain to attend a special tribal ceremony on a small island near Papua New Guinea in thanks for the Royal Navy’s protective presence in the region. On their arrival they decided to take a refreshing dip in a nearby lagoon, leaving their clothes at the edge. They must have been thoroughly enjoying their swim until they found themselves surrounded by angry looking tribesmen carrying spears and were dragged off naked to be imprisoned in a mud hut. It soon transpired that the tribe knew exactly who they were and had effected to capture them as a kind of prank. They were eventually treated to a ceremony in their honour where the captain was awarded a whale bone and they were all invited to down a half-coconut full of the regional speciality, Kava. After the surrender of the Japanese in 1945 the vessel was sent to sweep the coast of Japan. William was amongst the first British Citizens to visit Hiroshima in the aftermath of the atom bomb. He was also one of the first foreign doctors to witness first hand, the horrific injuries inflicted on the local population.
Thankfully he was able to survive these dangerous and dramatic years to relate his many and varied experiences to future children and grandchildren. Typically, he would not talk about himself without prompting but, when asked, his recollections were vivid, colourful and inspiring. He was always modest and unpretentious in regard to himself. This was reflected in an incident which occurred at a party he attended in Australia in 1946 whilst he was still in the Navy. When asked his name by a guest, he began to explain that he was christened William Heber Humphreys. However, he had only got as far as “I was Chris…’” when he was interrupted and found himself being referred to as Chris for the rest of the function. His friends, of course, found the whole thing hilarious and from that point on he was Chris for the remainder of the tour of duty. In May 1946 on the journey back to Britain, they stopped for shore leave on the coast of Aden (now Yemen). The servicemen and women had been allocated a swimming area alongside the Gold Mohur complex. His company was there at the same time as a group of women from the VADs and the two groups mixed well in a relaxed atmosphere. His crewmates were still introducing him as Chris to everyone he met. On the afternoon of May 20th 1946, he took a shine to a particular girl sunbathing on a raft. Such was his interest in her that he immediately hatched a plan to make a good first impression. Unnoticed, he dropped a crab onto the raft, waited for her scream of displeasure and then swam up to do the chivalrous thing. The girl’s name was Eve Fisher. They were married in October of the same year. Remarkably, having met Eve, the nickname that began as a joke stuck and he was affectionately known as Chris by friends and family for the rest of his life.
After the war he returned to Guys to complete his training with a view to pursuing a career as a general practitioner. In 1947 he noticed the advertisement in the British Medical Journal of a GP post in Montgomery. He applied along with over a hundred ex-servicemen and arrived at the interview with an envelope stuffed full of commendations from his Naval superiors as well as glowing references from his various employers in London. Long-serving Montgomery GP Doctor Stewart was looking for assistance in his private practice. Chris, with his local knowledge and youthful enthusiasm was the ideal candidate. He was offered the job and, as he wrote in an article for the Berriew Newsletter in 2004, it was something for which he would be eternally grateful. Having accepted the post, he and Eve moved into Plas Du on the outskirts of Montgomery, which they rented from Dr. Stewart. They settled very quickly in their new surroundings and soon became integral in the community. Before the NHS was established in 1948, health care provision was very patchy. To make life easier for people living in surrounding villages he helped to run makeshift surgeries wherever he could.
In those days GPs spent much of their time out on home visits which allowed them to develop a certain familiarity with patients. Often, after heavy snows, the doctor was the first person out, blazing a trail through the drifts to treat people stranded in their farms or cottages. He developed a particular affinity with the many farmers in the area, with whom he shared an interest in animals and land management. He spent so much time on home visits that often the only way to spend time with his children was to take them with him on his rounds; they were dubbed ‘Gate Openers’ and their role was an important one. Throughout his working life in Montgomery he kept a variety of animals including horses, ponies, bullocks, donkeys, ducks, mice, a bush baby monkey and lizards. Eve drew the line at Lizards. Chris was always willing to lend a hand in local civic life, serving on Montgomery and Powys’ Local Medical Committees for 32 years, chairing Montgomery’s Civic society for a time and taking part in the Amateur Dramatic Society. His affable demeanour made him popular throughout the community.
In 1949 Chris and Eve had their first child, Ruth and she was followed by Philip (1951), Julia (1954) and Simon (1956 ). As his family slowly took shape, his capability as a husband and a father would prove to eclipse even his excellence as a GP Chris was the kind of person who could find adventures in the most mundane of situations and could entertain his children for hours with stories infused with myth and mystery. Whether through old Welsh legends and songs, or true stories from his experiences, he was able to transport their imaginations to a magical place full of questions and possibilities.
In 1959 the practise advertised a vacancy for a third GP to work in Montgomery. At this juncture Chris and Eve were able to buy Glebe House on Church Bank. The successful candidate Dr. Ashton moved into Plas Du. A decade later Chris was also involved in the appointment of a further addition to the team, Dr. Welton. Chris was an unerring judge of character as is borne out by the great contributions Dr. Ashton and Dr. Welton have themselves made in Montgomery over the years.
In the late 60s Television news broadcasts began reporting on the situation in the Biafran region of Nigeria where Civil War and food shortages were contributing to a humanitarian catastrophe. Chris was so shocked and appalled by the images of so many desperately emaciated, malnourished people that he volunteered his service for the relief effort. Two months later, after the civil war had ended, he received a call from St John’s Ambulance Brigade asking if he would travel to a town called Ozoro to reopen the hospital. He set off for Nigeria on the 25th anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. He had with him only his doctor’s bag and some modest supplies of first aid with which to provide relief to people suffering from severe malnutrition and various tropical diseases. At the age of 50, after 23 years working in sleepy Montgomery he was back in war-torn lands. As the only doctor in a town of 20,000 he received as many as 70 patients a day. He would take the most seriously ill patients in his Land Rover to the nearest fully equipped hospital 50 miles away. Excerpts from one of his letters home to the family were quoted in the County Times, describing conditions in Ozoro, “The roads are full of pot-holes and one’s whole frame is shaken up,” “Snakes and Lizards abound both inside and outside the house” Despite the hopelessly inadequate resources at his disposal his presence for three months made a huge difference to a devastated community that was otherwise without help. There may well be people living in Ozoro today who would not be there had it not been for the life saving presence of Dr Humphreys in 1970. In order to leave he relied on the help of an Irish Catholic Priest. Only a few weeks later the priest was tragically shot and killed.
By the 1980s, the surgery had expanded to the point where White House was no longer adequate. In 1982 he oversaw the building of a modern surgery, designed by his Architect son Philip. After serving the people of Montgomery for 36 years and having secured the long term future of the surgery in new premises, he retired in 1983. Philip had also designed a smaller and cosier house for he and Eve to retire to, in the old orchard of Glebe House. Glebe Garden as it was named, would be the scene of many happy family occasions over the next two decades as Chris and Eves’ lives were enriched by the addition of eleven grandchildren to the family. Peter arrived in 1979, followed over the next 19 years by Chris, Jenny, Marcus, Lucy, Sally, Tristan, Rachel, Jonathan, William and Cameron. These were in many ways the golden years of Chris and Eve’s lives when they enjoyed the fruits of many years of dedicated involvement in the community. Divested of the restraints of work and with the benefit of a large network of friends and acquaintances, Chris once again enjoyed the same freedom to roam that he had thrived in as a child. He was able to take up forestry as hobby when he bought a piece of woodland above Pentrenant. It was to become a kind of sanctuary. Even late into his 70s he could be found felling trees with his chainsaw or tearing around the woodland on his quad bike transporting logs. He was fascinated by the natural balance at work in the wood and felt privileged to be so closely involved in the maintenance of an environment that would live on long after his life had ended.
His favourite pastime of all however was enjoying time with his family. He delighted in his grand childrens’ reactions of wonder and revulsion when he showed them his collection of dried insects, spiders and snake skins. Sharing the fun and mystery of riddles, wooden puzzles and obscure objects he was able to lighten the hearts and captivate the attention of adults and children alike. He was gifted with a child-like quality which made him unusually receptive to the small wonders in the world that are so abundant if you know where to look. He loved to join in with his grandchildren as they played in his expertly constructed tree house or in the Wendy houses he fashioned out of old boxes. He even bought a motorised toy Mercedes for the kids to cruise around the garden in. Glebe Garden became the hub for family gatherings, especially around Christmas and Easter. He was in his element as mastermind of the Easter Egg hunt, enjoying the puzzled expressions of his grandchildren and repeating his refrain, “no more clues”. When the children were busy elsewhere and the house was quiet, he and Eve cherished each others’ company, especially sharing summer afternoons relaxing in the garden admiring the wonderful views of the place where they had found so much happiness.
Despite everything he had experienced in his life, nothing could have prepared him for the struggle he was to face in his last years. After a long and distressing period of advancing dementia, Eve was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. To watch all the aspects of the person he loved so dearly slowly recede from view over the course of more than a decade must have caused him indescribable sorrow and emotional pain. As she became more and more frail he cared for her constantly alongside Ruth, Philip, Julie, Simon and their families. It soon required a daily effort of Sisyphean proportions just to make her as comfortable as possible at Glebe Garden. He was reluctant for her to move into a nursing home until it was absolutely unavoidable despite the fact that the enormous physical and emotional stress was killing him. Throughout an ordeal which endured for what must have felt like an eternity, he displayed a quite awesome resilience. In the face of the outrageous indignity of the situation he kept caring for Eve with tenderness and respect, drawing on seemingly inexhaustible reserves of patience and good cheer. Despite the insistent and callous assault of Alzheimer’s the bond between he and Eve proved unbreakable. When Eve died on January 17th 2003 a part of Chris was lost forever. It was a tragic end to a great love story.
During the period of Eve’s decline, Chris had several heart attacks. He also developed diabetes, which was particularly galling for someone who loved sweets as much as he did. The diabetic sweets were a poor substitute for Bon Bons, Sherbet Lemons and Rhubarb Custards. For a period he rallied and he bought a mobility vehicle to help him get around the town. Typically, he pushed the motorised chair to the limits of its capabilities, shooting around Montgomery at full pelt and somehow getting it to the top of the hill to see the castle at close quarters. His respiratory problems eventually made it necessary for him to wear an oxygen mask for first 16 and then 24 hours day and this made leaving the house very difficult. Soon it was too much effort to leave his bedroom apart from on special occasions. As the condition worsened the simple acts of eating and talking for extended periods left him breathless. Nevertheless he somehow found the energy to engage in conversation with his many visitors and always showed an interest in their affairs. Such was his concern for others he often made it sound as if they were the ones in need of support.
Right to the end he made the heroic effort to get out of bed each day to sit in his chair. He knew that as soon as he became confined to his bed permanently it was only a matter of time before he would have to move to hospital. He was determined to delay that outcome for as long as he possibly could. The fact that he was able to avoid long stays in hospital is a great credit to the people who followed his example in their care for him. As his quality of life became severely impaired he was still able to make light of his predicament with a cheerful impersonation of Yasser Arafat. He somehow managed to keep himself going, by this stage, one suspects, more for the sake of the people who loved him than for himself. He kept his spirits up by focusing on daily routines and keeping himself busy by keeping his carers busy. On the day he died he completed his final crossword. Even In his final hours he was just as wilful and funny as he ever was. After suffering yet another heart attack and having narrowly survived the journey to hospital, his eldest daughter Ruth suggested that he needed to boost his flagging blood sugar levels with a drink of Lucozade. “ No, I’m saving that for emergencies” came the emphatic reply.
Throughout his 85 years Chris Humphreys improved the lives of countless people. The many stories associated with his life will doubtless be told and retold through generations of his family. He was an extraordinary person whose influence will continue to lighten lives for a long time to come. Those who knew him well will always carry with them the memory of an energetic, worldly wise man full of the compassionate, inquisitive instincts of youth and always with a spark of mischief in his eyes.