Grateful Doc Lehman lifted me into this world

If you were born in Roosevelt County from 1936 to 1979 (with the exception for part of the 1940s), you may have been delivered by Herman O. Lehman.

He was our family doctor and friend for most of those years. We called him Doc Lehman until his son Charles, also a doctor, moved to Portales in later years to practice in the office that had once been his dad’s. At that point, Herman became “old Doc Lehman,” since Charlie was – obviously -- “young Doc Lehman.”

Old Doc Lehman came to Portales in 1936 to join the existing practice of H.T. Brasell. Gone for a few years to serve in World War II, when he returned in 1946, Doc Lehman bought the privately owned Hensley Hospital and ran it as Lehman Hospital until Roosevelt General Hospital opened in 1950.

He remained in the same building for the rest of his practice, also serving on the staff at the county hospital where he was chief of staff for many years. 

Doc Lehman was also the physician at Eastern New Mexico University for close to 20 years. He turned 72 just after the end of the spring semester in 1979, and retired from that post, then closed his own private practice effective July 1 that year.

Barely a week later, he and his wife Katie were in Roswell helping their orthopedic surgeon son Stanley unpack in a new home. Old Doc took a nap that afternoon and didn’t wake up.

Herman Lehman was a bachelor when he moved to Portales. In 1939, he married the local home demonstration agent, the charming and beautiful Katie Brem.

Miss Katie knew most of the rural folks in the county from her travels around our area where she taught skills like how to can a cow in a day. (No, really.)

That’s how my grandparents and Dad came to know her, and she was likely the first connection they had to the new doctor in town. 

Doc Lehman and my dad became good friends, and when Doc Lehman had sons, he brought them out to the ranch to go bird hunting with my dad.

When my dad married later in life, he introduced his bride to his doctor, and within a few years it naturally followed that my brothers and I were among the hundreds (thousands?) of babies Doc Lehman delivered during his 33 years of local practice.

Because we lived in the country and it was no small feat to gather us up for a doctor visit, when one of us was ailing, most of the time it was handled by a phone call to Doc Lehman.

(Young readers won’t believe this, but you could actually call and talk to your doctor quite easily once upon a time in America.)

Doc would ask what we might have on hand in the medicine cabinet or in the back of the fridge … maybe some leftover antibiotics from a previous illness, or a tried and true home remedy that could be administered to help a fussy kid get to sleep and save an exhausting late night run to the big city.

All of us survived. That’s proof enough for me.

My dad became a Rotarian early in the 1970s, joining his friend Doc Lehman, who had already been a member for several decades.

Our beloved family doctor was notorious for often dozing off during the meetings — it was his one chance to catch a nap after those countless late nights ushering babies into the world.

Doc Lehman cared for three generations of my family, and I’m still in touch with three generations of his.

These days when I’m on my phone wading through pages of computer gobbledygook simply to register for an upcoming medical appointment, I wish for the days when we could pick up a telephone and call Doc Lehman.

I’ll always be grateful that it was his gentle hands that were the first to lift me into this world. 

Betty Williamson has no antibiotics in her fridge, but still loves a good home remedy. Reach her at:

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